


Where the Sun Shines in Gold

by Chopstick



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Mild Gore, Mystery, Thriller, chanyeol is cute and dumb, inspired by se7en and fight club, slow build up, this will not be fluffy, welp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-02-12 21:00:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2124558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chopstick/pseuds/Chopstick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byun Baekhyun learns the hard way that society is not what he thinks it is. Pursuing a career in journalism, is something he assumes will make him aware of what is going on in every crack and crevice around the world. </p><p>But as a person close to him disappears without a single trace, Baekhyun’s perception of the world is shattered. </p><p>Simultaneously, a private investigator, Kim Jongin, is trailing a series of unsolved murders. At first glance, they have not appeared to be linked to each other, but as more clues reveal themselves a single constant connects them together. </p><p>A constant which leads to Baekhyun and a world where the sun shines in rivers of gold. </p><p>Suddenly, Baekhyun regrets knowing anything at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Deliver the Package

 

_Date: April 12th 2006  
Location: Somewhere in Seoul, capital of South Korea  
Time: 23:56:02_

 

_Objective: Deliver the package._

 

♦

 

It was cold, that was for sure. The moonlight shone with an eerie glow through the humid and fog filled alley, and the stench, which had been almost unbearable, had since then gotten indiscernible. On the street ahead people rushed by with their faces huddling even further into their warm coats, desperately seeking for protection against the chilly night. Their breaths formed small clouds of steam and hair lashed around their faces like miniature whips.

But _he_ wasn’t cold, nor was he in a rush. He had business to attend to, business of great importance. At least, that was what he told himself.

A couple of young boys, no more than ten years old, ran past on the sidewalk ten meters ahead, clutching toy guns and swords in their small hands. Eye patches and big pirate hats adorned their heads, a contrast to the thick, modern jackets they wore. They both had tuffs of light, hazel brown hair peeking out from beneath the rim of their hats. They wore similar mischievous, grins on their faces. They were twins.

A little girl, slightly younger than the boys, soon followed them. She, with a cheap-looking plastic wand in her grip. A plastic silver crown was perched on top of her golden locks. They looked as if they had been carefully curled by a loving hand.

"Stupid pirates! I'm going to turn you into pink frogs! The good guys always win!" she yelled before disappearing behind the corner. A few seconds later a middle aged couple appeared, walking in the same direction the kids had run off into. The woman clutched a tall, handsome man’s arm. She was beautiful and graceful and her clothes screamed of rich, expensive fabrics. She had not buttoned her trench coat all the way up, leaving a small sliver of pale skin to show. And against her collarbones hung a beautiful necklace.

The chain was made of silver, or white gold - probably the latter - with a small pendant dangling freely from it. A bright red ruby in the middle surrounded by smaller, sparkling diamonds

_Estimated value: a slight fortune._

The man accompanying her was no less a modern version of a novelty than her, if anything he looked like the bigger fish. The man’s well-fitting clothes were probably of the high-end brand Armani. They were tailored and neatly pressed, and the dress shoes he wore with the outfit, were so shiny they almost sparkled in the yellow streetlight.

They were a perfect family. A handsome and successful man, his stunning wife and their three children. Living a close to idyllic life with little to nothing to even bat an eyelash at. Their unflawed life reflected in each of their eyes.

The man cupped his glove clad hands around his mouth. “Seojin, Jungsu and Sooji, wait up! Don’t run so fast!” he called into the illuminated night sky of Seoul. The woman giggled and clutched even harder onto the man’s arm. She looked genuinely happy, a bright smile danced on her face and her eyes sparkled with amusement. It was a look not often seen anymore, even less in public - at least not for the average person.

Her and the children’s happiness made him sick, nauseous even. Not out of jealousy, but out of pity.

Pity, because her husband didn't seem to share whatever joy she was feeling. A longing look lingered in the man's eyes and his closed smile was seemingly forced. It was evident in the way he bit his lips so hard, they had started to whiten. He was a good actor, efficient enough to probably fool even the pickiest of film critics, but he could not fool the man standing in the alley.

To _him_ everything was as obvious as a day; it came down to simple math. One plus one equaled two, one plus two - on the other hand, equaled three.

And a romantic relationship involving three people rarely ended well. Especially if one part was not aware of the polygamous situation.

He scoffed and turned around to face the alley. Pulling the collar of his trench coat even higher, making a makeshift windshield.

“Fucking idiots,” he muttered to himself.

The wind continued to pick up strength. He buried his nose into the collar. It smelt of smoke; old, expensive cigar smoke. He couldn't remember where he got it from.

The bricks surrounding him had probably seen better days as well as the buildings themselves. Some of them had blackened while others had started to crumble. _Sad_ , he thought, t _he buildings had once been beautiful_. A slightly lighter spot on one brick caught his attention. It was not bigger than the size of a penny and the colour was at least two times lighter than the rest of the brick. Just one small glance at it and he knew what it was. Acid.

There was only one light bulb still shedding light in the dark alley. Its flickering light made shadows come to life, creating illusions worthy of a mental illness. He decided promptly that he was feeling slightly light headed, but he soon shrugged it off. He had to keep his composure - after all, he was a professional.

He walked further in. The noise from the street was almost completely muffled. The loudest thing that could be heard was his own breathing. In the surrounding silence, it sounded as if he was gasping for air. He cursed at himself.

He reached a matte, black door at the very end. It had no doorknob, doorbell or peeping hole. He opted for knocking. The touch was cool even for the biting weather grazing the night. The knock resounded in the small alley, making the hair on his neck rise. He involuntarily shivered, not feeling as warm and unaffected anymore.

His gut feeling told him everything was okay and on schedule, but his senses were on high alert. Every sigh of the wind, every star twinkling in the sky, every sound heard and everything he could see; was registered in the back of his mind.

But nothing happened.

He tried again, but was met with the same response; silence.

Taking a step back he let his eyes linger a second longer on the matte door. _Had he missed something? A clue?_ He was thoroughly confused - he had never missed anything before. But then he saw it: a small, almost invisible indent located at the very edge of the door’s upper right corner.

He traced the outline of the indent with his finger; its shape was familiar. It wasn't round nor was it oval. An egg shape? Or maybe-

There was a sharp pain in his fingertip and he immediately withdrew it. A small amount of blood trickled down until it coagulated. The fingertip had fitted against the indent perfectly. A few seconds later, the door opened slightly, letting a small beam of light shine through. A silent welcome, paid for with blood.

Things were getting cute.

♦

 


	2. Distances

_Date: April 14th 2016 (ten years later)_   
_Location: Somewhere in Seoul, capital of South Korea_   
_Time: 02:12:21_

_Objective: Cover up_

 

"Where did you find it?" he moaned, sleep more than apparent in his voice.

It felt like he had only been asleep for twenty minutes before his phone brutally screeched out his obnoxious ringtone. And then, there he was. Slumped on his desk while being briefed about another clue being found.

“Behind one the trashcans in the park, near the sushi restaurant you and I used to visit, Jongin. It’s smeared with blood, but other than that, I can see no exterior damage.”

“Has anyone but you seen it yet?” he desperately tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. Something in his gut told him that he would have to be up and alert rather soon.

“No, but I suggest you get that ass of yours moving. I won’t be able to hide it for very long; my commanding officers suffer from slight paranoia. Well, I can’t be entirely sure of that, but it wouldn’t surprise me, y’know,” the man on the other side of the line scoffed. "They've been in this cop business for way too long, but no one dares to tell 'em 'cus then you'd be put on another case. Like looking for an old woman's cat that's gone missing in the house, or something."

Jongin ran a hand through his raven hair in an attempt to tame it.

“Okay, okay, don’t touch it just leave it be. I’ll be there in twenty minutes, do your best to distract the others.”

“Got it, mate.”

“Oh, and Minseok?”

“Yes?”

“You talk too much.” He hung up.

Life had never adjusted to Jongin. It was always the other way around. Not even when he hadn’t slept for over a week, always gripping a cup of coffee gone cold in his shaking hands.

The air in his office was stuffy, as if neither the door nor windows had been opened for several years. Clothes lay strewn everywhere, coffee stains on his cheap office table and he could have sworn his old partner lay buried somewhere beneath a pile of trash.

It was a shame, really. Ruby had been a great partner, albeit a bit sassy and greedy. She always wanted to gnaw on a piece of cheese or bone, sometimes going to the very extent of stealing something from Jongin’s personal mini fridge. She had truly been a great partner and rat.

He rubbed his eyes while he started to feel the beginning of yet another glorious headache. The lack of proper sleep, nutrition and support from the thing so-called fate, had their usual effect on him. Outside, the rain showered down. The droplets fell hard on the aging windows of the building and the thunderstorm did not seem to simmer down any time soon. The water pouring down the length of the windows made him think of waterfalls.

_Fuck the rain._

He rose from the chair he was sitting in and looked at one of the four bulletin boards standing in the middle of the office. They were covered with overlapping documents, gruesome photos, old case folders from the archive, and small post-it notes. Threads of varying colours had been drawn between pins on a map over the city. One pin in the middle of Seoul square. From there, numerous threads reached out to several locations in South Korea, but the connection between them didn’t make any sense. The lack of pattern was unnerving, even for someone like Jongin.

Jongin, whose life had been consisting of nothing but patterns and predictable outcomes. Count one and add one, the possibility of repetition was second to none. Follow the smallest trail of breadcrumbs and they will eventually lead you to, well, _something_. Luckily, he had been fortunate enough to never stumble upon a small, picturesque cabin constructed of cake and confectionery, in the middle of the woods.

But this time it was different. Things were clearly not what they seemed to be, nor where they were supposed to be. A misplaced hair strand or a missing scratch that otherwise, in normal conditions, would be there, yet this time around, wasn’t. He knew the cases were connected. He had a gut feeling, and that was the only thing he grasped onto. But everything was highly unsettling.

And now he was going to have to pin another photo to the already overloaded bulletin board.

_Shit, shit, shit, and some more glorious shit._

\-----

An hour later and Jongin was drenched in water. The downpour had increased its power the moment he had stepped a foot outside of his car. It was as if the weather deliberately wanted nothing but the worst for him.

The sky was darker than ever and the onset of a mist was hanging near in the humid night air. The light from the streetlights didn’t illuminate more than two meters of ground. A dark nothingness resided in between the beacons. A few meters ahead of him was the park, covered in the same nothingness. The trees’ outlines melted into the shadows, as did the bushes and shrubs.

He slammed the door shut, not even bothering to keep quiet; the thunder muffled the sound enough for him to be able to slip by unnoticed. The downpour washed away all the dirt covering the car, leaving a black, shiny surface.

His father had given it to him when he was younger - although not many years younger. It was old and beaten. The motor whined when going up an ascent, the front lights never ceased to flicker - no matter how many times he would change light bulbs - and it had probably traveled too many miles for it to be considered safe, but he loved it nonetheless. It reminded him of past times. The good times.

He looked ahead, searching for reds and blues in the distance. None were to be seen, the mist which had managed to thicken in just a matter of seconds, covered his sight. He shivered as his clothes gradually started to cling to his body. If only he could hurry up and find Minseok.

As if Minseok had been reading his mind, his phone screeched for the second time that night.

Mentally willing his clenching jaw to open, he lifted the phone to his ear. “Shit, Minseok. Where the fuck are you? I can’t see anything in this weather.”

“Nice talking to you again, Jongin,” the other scoffed before he continued, “Where are you? I’ll come and get your sorry ass.”

“I’m standing by the pond.”

“I’m coming. Stay put and don’t wander away like you usually do,” Minseok snorted out before he continued, in a soft and almost delicate voice, “The last time didn’t end very well, y’know?” And then he hung up, not leaving Jongin any time to respond.

“Yeah, I know,” Jongin whispered to himself. He suddenly felt very tired, even more so than before. He quickly pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. _No, stop it, Jongin. Stop._

He leaned back against the car door and tilted his head backwards, letting the rain droplets cool him down a bit. A strangled laughter left him. He wished the rain would wash away his filth. Just wash away everything so that he could start anew again. A new life, a new future. But it never did, no matter how many times he tried.

Life never adjusted to Jongin. Never had and probably never would.

 

♦

_Date: April 13th 2016_   
_Location: Parc de Bercy, Paris, capital of France_   
_Time: 12:13:02_

_Objective: Capture the moments_

 

The camera shutter clicked for the millionth time in Jongdae’s left ear, and he could slowly feel himself lose his temper. He liked to believe that he had the temper and patience of a hippo lying in a shallow pond on a hot summer’s day. He usually did, but _some_ people knew how to drill their way into his brain. _Some_ being one particular person, namely Byun Baekhyun.

He clasped his hands on his lap, a mantra repeating a thousand fault in his head. _Do not lose your temper, Kim Jongdae. Keep being the cool pug that you are, Kim Jongdae._

Jongdae’s self-proclaimed best friend since high school, the self-proclaimed Pulitzer Prize winning journalist student, who enjoyed posing as a professional photographer during his spare time - and the sole cause to most of Jongdae’s headaches. That was Byun Baekhyun.

“Jongdae, you have a pimple on your cheek,” Baekhyun pointed out casually, completely oblivious to his friend’s ragged breathing.

Said boy closed his eyes and mentally tried to convince himself to not strangle his best friend in public. He would be kind enough to himself and wait until they returned to their hotel. It would be easier to get away with murder if no one was there to witness everything. He, of course, would claim he acted in self-defense. It wouldn’t be a far-fetched truth, seeing as his sanity was rapidly deteriorating each second Baekhyun drew a breath.

He was only going to save himself.

Baekhyun backed away from his best friend, lowering the camera as he stepped to stand in front of the brown haired boy. Leaning a bit closer, Baekhyun could quite clearly distinguish his friend’s veins in his forehead. They seemed close to popping.

“Hey, Jongdae! Your veins are close to popping. Man, you really should see the purple hue they’ve gotten… Fucking _amazeballs_ ,” he exclaimed excitingly. His otherwise small eyes, got as big as saucers, and a grin that would give the Cheshire cat a run for the money, adorned his face. He lifted the camera and pressed his entire face against it to look through the viewfinder. When he had made sure the focus and exposure was to his liking, he pressed the shutter button. _Click._

And something hit his stomach. Hard.

Had his best friend just _head-butted_ him?

He stumbled backwards over the pavement, quite surprised that Jongdae had decided to start being violent in public. His best friend was a peacemaker at heart, and wouldn’t even hurt a fly even if it were flying in and out his ear. And there he was, head-butting people as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

Baekhyun gasped in mock hurt while showing off his best acting skills, clasping both his heart and stomach.

“Ugh, my prince. Why did you-” he gasped.

Jongdae interrupted him, snorting and rolling his eyes. “Stop the horrid acting, idiot. You’re not tricking anyone. _And_ you’re freaking annoying,” Jongdae glared at Baekhyun who straightened his back, while rubbing his sore belly.

After throwing his nemesis one last glare, Jongdae stomped off into the horizon like the sassy diva he was. He did not have any time to spare for peasants, especially not lower ranked people like Byun Baekhyun, duke of What-Is-Sanity. He had important things to take care of. Mainly his aching head and neck.

Maybe he shouldn’t have head-butted Baekhyun.

\------

Byun Baekhyun was a lone ranger on a mission to enlighten and educate people about themselves, and the rest of the world. It had always been a dormant dream of his. And that was why he had chosen to pursue a career where its workers had to think once, twice and even thrice, about everything. To search for the final truth.

An aspiring journalist’s dream.

But he was still far from it. More specifically, nine thousand and twenty-four kilometers away. He wasn’t all too pleased, but he figured shortly after landing in Paris, that he really wasn’t in any place to complain. Paris was nothing short of stunning with its unique architecture and vivid streets. Of course, being there as a tourist made everything more exotic than what the average Parisian would think, but then again, Baekhyun was not a Parisian so he was excited beyond measure.

Jongdae called him fickle; he would rather refer to himself as _open-minded and easily swayed_. His other best friend, Joonmyun, preferred calling him an annoying idiot. So it was really only a question of time before Baekhyun found himself abandoned in the middle of Paris’ streets. He loved Jongdae, but that guy had little to no patience sometimes.

He had no choice but to explore Paris on his own. It was just him and his trusted, weather-proofed monster of a camera, which he liked to refer to as _Mte_.

“It’s just the two of us now, Mte. Us against the world,” he said to himself, looking fondly at the camera in his hand. His eyes were getting a little wet and there was somersaulting butterflies in his stomach. He sniffed while stroking the lump of metal, plastic and glass.

Quickly wiping the onslaught of tears from his eyes, Baekhyun straightened his back and focused his gaze forward. The wind ruffled his hair and clothes and a mental image popped up in his head. He tilted his head backwards so he faced the cloudless, blue sky. He could do this on his own. He didn’t need Jongdae’s company, no, he was a merciless journalist student on a mission. He could do this.

He felt his lungs expand when he drew a deep breath. He garnered power from deep within his mind and body, and let it all out in a roar, something achingly similar to any scene in _The Lion King_. And then he stomped away with determination burning in his eyes.

 

♦


	3. Traces

“Hey, Jongdae! Guess who’s back, jackass!” Baekhyun announced the moment he entered through the hotel room door. His nose was red and his hair was ragged by the winds, but he felt sated. An entire day of playing Dora, the explorer, was enough to put a blinding smile on his face for at least the remainder of the trip.

It had been a great, albeit a lonesome, day. He had tried out his guidebook French, which, to his pleasant surprise, hadn’t failed him at all, with exception for his more than likely failed pronunciation – not that anyone would expect him to spew out native like French. A few _Bonjour,_ _Ca va_ , _Je voudrais celui-là_ , _Merci beacoup, madame, mademoiselle_ or _monsieur_ , and _Tu parles l’Anglais,_ went a long way. He’d been able to find his way around thanks to the GPS on his phone. Bless the technology nerds who invented the global positioning system.

Despite all the stories circulating around the world that the French refused to speak anything other than their romantic language, he had not come across anyone who hadn’t been willing to communicate with him in English.

Just as he expected, the Eiffel Tower was gorgeous. He was too much of a coward to ride the elevator to the top floor, so he’d been content with looking at it from below, on the steady ground. He knew he was being cliché for visiting the Eiffel Tower, and he was sure his classmates would mock him for life once he and Jongdae returned to South Korea, but he could care less, if he wanted to play the stereotypical tourist then frankly, nothing would ever be able to stop him.

His feet had started to ache around five p.m. and he had decided that enough was enough, but before he retreated to the hotel, he had dropped by a small café located on the infamous Champs Élysées. The macaroons they had were expensive to say the least, but he bought a few for him and Jongdae to munch on.

“Yo, I bought something for you,” he called out, as he put a small bag containing the macaroons on a nearby bureau in the hallway.

He frowned at his friend’s lack of response as he took off his shoes and outerwear, throwing them onto a chair in the small hallway. While gently placing Mte on one of the single beds in the room, he could see the lamps lighting up the room in a golden hue and the TV filled it with flickering images and loud, obnoxious laughter. Trust his best friend to watch a sitcom in the comfort of their hotel room.

However, all kinds of snarky comments disappeared from his mind the moment he stepped into the room. In the corner of the room, sat Jongdae. Slumped into a ball against the wall, with his knees drawn up against his chest, arms were resting on top of them and his head hung low. He looked like a wreck.

“Jongdae?” Baekhyun called softly. He didn’t like this at all, this ominous mood slowly creeping into the room. He stepped further into the room, cautiously.

“Hey, Jongdae. Are you mad at me?” he asked anxiously, crouching in front of his friend. Jongdae still hadn’t even as much as muttered a single word or even acknowledged his mere presence.

The silence between them was tangible. Outside the sun had settled and darkness covered the city of Paris. But it was still as beautiful as it was during the day, if not even more. The streetlights below were bright enough to light up the turning and tortuous streets. It reminded Baekhyun of a net of veins.

After a while, he came to the conclusion that Jongdae simply didn’t want to talk to him. Ignoring the stab of guilt in his chest, he stood up and walked towards the bathroom to clean himself up. He shrugged of the sense of uneasiness he felt, like something was wrong. Baekhyun couldn’t understand Jongdae’s current mood, his best friend was never one to actually mope around and hold grudges. Another thing Baekhyun couldn’t understand, was why the hair on his neck was beginning to rise.

“Baek…”

He barely heard Jongdae whisper his name. Stopping in his track, he turned around and immediately crouched down next to his friend again, but this time he squeezed Jongdae’s shoulder with his hand in a comforting manner. He took a closer look at his friend. Jongdae’s eyes were bloodshot and his nose was a tad red. Something in his stomach sank at the sight of him and he got an inexplicable urge to throw up everything he had ingested the last few days.

“Hey, look. I’m really, really sorry for what I did earlier. I won’t annoy you with my camera anymore. I know I can be a handful sometimes, but hey, I promise you I’ll try to refrain from my… over-the-top ways. You know what? Let me treat you something tomorrow. I’ll buy you all the baguettes you can eat, and then--”

“Tao’s missing.”

“-- we can go to the Louvre, just like you’ve always wanted and-- wait, what?” Baekhyun interrupted himself mid-sentence. He stared with disbelief at his best friend. Wheezing laughter could be heard from the TV in the background, but other than that, it was dead silent. With his head still hung low, Jongdae answered with a wavering voice, much unlike the usual joyous tilt it usually had.

“Joonmyun called me earlier. Tao’s been missing since yesterday.”

 

♦

 

_Date: April 14th 2016_   
_Location: Somewhere in Seoul, capital of South Korea_   
_Time: 03:20:21_

_Objective: Cover up_

 

The raindrops felt wonderful against his face. The cooling and slightly massaging sensation they offered, was enough to put Jongin in a meditative state of mind. Images flickered in his mind; a summer's day filled with laughter and strawberries, the ocean bathing in the hues of a sunset, a warm hand slipping into his accompanied by a melodic laughter. Memories.

Warm memories, precious moments.

He was so lost in his meditative state that he didn't notice a shadow nearing him on the sidewalk. It wasn't until he felt someone grab a hold of his left wrist, as he came back to his senses. Acting on pure instinct, he twisted his wrist out of the grip, grabbed the offender by the neck and slammed the person face-first into the frame of his car. The person groaned as Jongin held him down.

“Who the fuck are you, and what do you want?!”

“Jongin, back off, dude. It’s me, you fucking dumbass,” the person forced out weakly.

Frowning slightly, Jongin shook his head to get rid of the last traces of drowsiness out of his mind. His mind slowly cleared as he took in the appearance of his offender. Short, but strong build, dark coat; navy blue perhaps when not soaked in rain, and short, brown hair with wet bangs currently clinging onto a round face.

“Minseok,” he gasped in recognition and immediately released his friend from his iron grip. “Shit, I’m sorry, but you scared the shit out of me.”

“Well, yeah, likewise. You scared the shit out of me too. Thought for a second there that you’ve gone berserk…” Minseok confessed as he stood up and turned around. He gently pressed his fingers to an aching bump on his forehead and grimaced at the pain.

“Thanks for the bruise, by the way. What a great way to show how thankful you are for my help,” he scoffed with a voice laced with sarcasm.

Jongin cringed on the inside. He hadn’t been aware that Minseok was approaching him, and the horrible weather conditions made it impossible for anyone to see anything in clear sight. He calmed down his still racing heart and drew a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, I was spacing off and I didn’t see you approach me,” he explained apologetically.

The other man simply waved it off and leaned against the car. “It’s okay. I should’ve just stood in front of you, and jumped around like a bunny until you noticed me.”

“Please, don’t do that.”

“What?” the smaller man asked, feigning offence. “I would make a great bunny. At least, that’s what my neighbour, Jessica, told me.”

Jongin cocked an eyebrow.

Minseok averted his eyes and fiddled with the buttons on his coat. “Uh, well, that is completely irrelevant right now. We have more important things to discuss.” He straightened up and put his hands in his pockets. The smaller man’s eyes lost their childish flicker and were replaced by a stern and cold look. The atmosphere between the two friends turned serious.

“That’s true,” Jongin began slowly, carefully. “What did you find?”

“Come, I’ll show you,” the policeman said as he turned and started to walk in the same direction he came from.

\-----

“I’m amazed that you can navigate in this rain,” Jongin almost shouted through the rain.

“Well, I didn’t sit through police academy for nothing, you know,” Minseok scoffed. “We’re here,” he said and pointed at a dark alley.

They had been walking for a good twenty minutes, passing various stores, cafés and restaurants. Jongin had recognized the ice cream parlor he and Minseok used to visit when they were in high school. Countless breaks had they spent there with their small clique of close friends. High school sure felt like a lifetime ago.

He followed Minseok closely, the rain never ceasing to cloud his vision. The narrow alley provided some shelter against the elements, but the fog was as thick as ever. His friend was scanning the ground back and forth, until he suddenly came to a halt halfway into the alley. Jongin, who had not expected the sudden stop, bumped into him.

Minseok quickly walked to the brick wall on their right and crouched down. Jongin stepped closer and observed his friend. For as long as he had known Minseok, the smaller man had always been a happy go lucky type of person, most of the time wearing a mischievous grin on his face. Despite him being three years Jongin’s senior, he had never felt any consequence of their age difference.

But there had been rare occasions when Jongin had been able to witness another side of his best friend; the serious and fearless side. The first time was the first day Minseok attended the police academy. He had gone inside the building with the same childish grin as always, but the look he had had on his face once he’d come out, had been fierce and determined.

The second time had been when Minseok had gotten his first case as a police officer. He never told Jongin what the case was about, all he knew was that the case was solved in the matter of hours.

Jongin didn’t keep count of how many times he’d been able to see a serious Minseok, but it was always intriguing to watch his best friend do what he excelled at. Even under bitter circumstances. Or odd ones, as the one they were facing now.

His friend kept knocking the bricks closest to the ground gently, one by one, and each time a harsh and short sound resonated in the dark alley.

Jongin looked at him curiously wondering if his friend had gone mad. “Uh, what are you doing?”

“Schh, I’m listening!”

“Listening for what exactly?”

Minseok ignored him and continued knocking on a few more bricks when one brick emitted a dull sound, causing his face to light up in triumph. Once again, his serious demeanor had been replaced by the same childish personality as always.

“This is it!” he exclaimed excitedly.

“What are you talking about? I thought you said you had found something in a wall?”

“Yes, I did. I found something in a hole in a wall and now we’re here.”

“But I don’t see a hole? Or something even remotely similar to one, not even a tiny crack. I’m not too sure what your definition of a hole is, but I suggest you go and pick up a dictionary--“ Jongin stopped himself mid-sentence when he saw Minseok push the brick in, leaving a hole in the wall.

“Look, Jongin, a hole!” his friend sang song. Jongin looked at him, clearly unamused.

“You just created a hole by pushing in a brick,” he noted.

“Well, aren't you a genius? Nah, I just covered the hole up. I’m not stupid enough to leave a hole unattended for before running away to meet up with you,” Minseok explained with a small smile on his face.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re enjoying this.”

Jongin’s words were ignored for the second time that night when Minseok stuck his glove clad hand in and pulled a small object out of the hole. Jongin leaned forward to peak over his shoulder. It looked like some sort of jewelry, a necklace maybe? No, not a necklace, the chain was far too thick. Minseok stood up with his hand outstretched, waiting for Jongin to take it.

"Don't forget gloves, Jongin," he warned him. Obeying his friend he reached into his inner pocket and fished out a pair of thin, black leather gloves. He put them on and gently took a hold of the object. It was heavy.

"Any idea of what it might be, Seokkie?" he asked as he held it in eye level, carefully twirling the chain to observe it from every direction.

The chain was probably made of silver or maybe platinum, and the pendant hanging from it seemed to be made of the same metal. Blood was smeared over it, painting it a bright red. It was flat, fairly big and the surface was smooth – except for a small slit running down the sides. Like a locket.

“It’s a-“ Minseok began, but Jongin had already opened it, “pocket watch,” they both said simultaneously. _A hunter-case watch_ , Jongin noted to himself.

The timepiece itself was stunning. The dial indicator had been left out, only four numeral indicators had been left on the frame to show the time. It had left the inner clockwork on full display, and boy, was it gorgeous. Jongin was stunned to say the least, the timepiece itself must’ve cost a fortune.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” he heard his friend ask.

“Yeah, must’ve cost a fortune. Definitely nothing for us poor, poverty-stricken mortals.”

“Sad, but true. Jongin, what you might find interesting is not the timepiece itself. Look at the lid.”

Averting his eyes from the spinning clockwork, he looked at the inside of the lid. Engraved in tiny letters were two names written in initials. He nearly choked on air when he saw the first initials.

“B.B…” he whispered.


	4. Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cross-posted on asianfanfics under the same username C:

_Date: April 13th 2016_

_Location: Hôtel de l'Europe, Paris, capital of France_   
_Time: 19:20:35_

_New Objective: Ask_

 

Missing. Joonmyun called. Missing. Tao had been missing since yesterday. Missing. His little brother. Jongdae’s words echoed in his brain without him actually catching them to process the meaning behind the sentence.

“Missing?” he asked Jongdae incredulously, and with a voice cracking from the force of utter disbelief. “What do you mean by missing? Missing as in not returning a phone call? Missing as in running away from home? Missing as in the worst case scenario possible?"

“Missing as in suddenly disappearing without any trace, Baekhyun,” his friend answered while finally turning to look at him in the eyes. Emotions swirled around in his best friend’s eyes. In the deep brown eyes, there was confusion, disbelief, sadness, and something aching to suspicion.

Baekhyun felt as if the world had tilted on its axis without indicating anything prior. There was so many questions he wanted to ask, but his throat was strangled and his heart hammered in his chest. Where had Tao gone missing? What had he been doing earlier that day or week? Who had he been in contact with, who was the most recent person he had spoken to? At what time during the day had he gone missing? Did the police know anything, and what did they know? His head felt physically heavy with questions.

“What did Joonmyun tell you?” he asked with a shaking voice that was threatening to fail him at any moment.

Jongdae’s eyes flickered between the window and his own knees, before settling on a spot on the floor. “He said Tao disappeared around noon and three p.m. Your mother was the last one who had been in contact with him, texting him to tell him he’d forgotten to bring his lunch this morning. Apparently, he had just replied with a simple “okay”. Your parents are currently being questioned, Joonmyun said. As are his friends and classmates. The police hasn’t disclosed any additional information to the public, but according to Joonmyun, they’re currently looking through the school’s security tapes.”

Baekhyun didn’t know what to think. “If he disappeared at noon Korean standard time, then he’s been gone for about thirty-six hours by now,” he said slowly.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine his little brother running away from home. Their small family was very closely knitted and they all loved each other equally much. Sure, there had been numerous fights, big and small – it was only natural, but Tao had never expressed any will to leave. Baekhyun frowned.

“So he left home in the morning for school, and then disappeared during school hours? Someone at school must have seen him,” he stated and massaged his temple with his right hand.

“They’re currently interrogating his friends, acquaintances and teachers, Baek. They’ve only just begun the investigation, you know how it works, the police give a twenty-four hour timespan for the missing person to come back, and not until afterwards do they begin looking into it,” Jongdae clarified. “They’ve only been looking for him for approximately twelve hours, give or take one hour.”

Baekhyun took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He really didn’t like this. He wasn’t mentally prepared for something like this to happen to himself. He had heard about people disappearing on the news, sometimes on an almost daily basis, but that was ages ago, when he still was a little child rolling around on the floor. People of different social ranking and without any clear connections to each other, disappearing without a trace only to never be found, was almost considered normal back then.

But it had gradually come to a halt, or at least it had showed signs of a decreasing trend. These days, the norm was maybe a disappearance every seven months. But even so, every time he had felt some sort of detached sympathy and pity for a couple of minutes, and then he had moved on with his life. But now that it had happened to someone in his own personal circle, he could really imagine what the relatives of the person who disappeared had felt.

And it was utterly horrible.

He worried about his little brother. He worried about his mother. He worried about his father. His parents must be devastated.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting silently, but after what felt like an eternity, he felt Jongdae’s arms embrace him and tuck him under his chin. Baekhyun felt grateful for the kind gesture and nearly slumped his entire body against Jongdae, who didn’t complain or say anything for a few moments. But it wasn’t long before he opened his mouth.

“He will come back, one way or another. I know it in my heart. He will come back,” Jongdae whispered into Baekhyun’s hair. “Your brother is smart, he knows what to do and what not to do.” And Baekhyun agreed. Tao was smart, smarter and more level-headed than anyone else he knew. He wouldn’t put himself in any unnecessary danger.

But there was one scenario that kept repeating itself over and over in his head. Something that gave him goose bumps and caused the hair in his neck stand upright. It was a perfectly plausible scenario, yet Baekhyun continuously rejected it because he couldn’t see Tao act in that way. But nothing could or should be ruled out.

What if Tao hadn’t gone to school in the first place?

\------

When they were in their beds a few hours later, preparing for some much needed sleep, he suddenly realized something, something that was strange. He called Jongdae quietly in the dark.

“Hey, Jongdae.”

His friend hummed in response and turned to face him. Jongdae, was encased in a silvery sheen thanks to the moon light, shining through the window. In the light, Jongdae looked like an angel, Baekhyun’s personal guardian angel. Shaking the thought away from his head, he proceeded to ask him the question that had been nagging him.

“Why didn’t you contact me after you had heard everything from Joonmyun? Why wait until I got back to the hotel room?” Ouch, that might have sounded a bit harsh and accusing.

He could see his friend tense. “I tried to call you, but you didn’t answer your phone, so I had to sit there for almost two hours, trying to come up with a way to break the news to you,” his friend scowled, leaving Baekhyun confused. What did his best friend mean by trying to call him and he hadn’t picked up?

“You tried to call me? What? When? I didn’t receive any phone calls from anyone,” he denied and got up from bed to fish out his phone form the back pocket. He returned to stand next to Jongdae’s bed and gave it to him, to show that he indeed hadn’t received any calls. “Here, look.”

His friend cocked his eyebrow and unlocked the screen to tap the call log. His frown got even deeper. Without a single word, Jongdae reached around on the night table beside him and gave Baekhyun his phone, who unlocked it and tapped the screen to reach the call log. Ten calls had been made in that evening to the same number. His number.

“What the actual fuck… I can’t believe it,” he voiced out loud, and sat down on Jongdae’s bed.

“I even texted you, look at the text log.”

He tapped on the text app. Six texts had been sent to his number, and a small, green tick next to them indicated that they had been correctly delivered. “I don’t get it…” he whispered. His phone hadn’t received any texts or calls throughout the day, and yet here he was, being presented with clear evidence that Jongdae had indeed tried several times to contact him.

“Could something be wrong with the network maybe? Or is it just the Parisian air that is somehow, affecting our phones?”

It was odd. It had worked perfectly when they had tried to reach his parents a few hours ago. A police officer had answered his mother’s phone, and told him that they were currently being questioned, thus making them unable to answer. He had gotten a promise from the officer that he’d inform his parents about the call.

Jongdae chuckled and sat up. “Baekhyun, you’re overreacting if you think that the Parisian air is somehow affecting the most basic of functions on our phones.”

Baekhyun couldn’t argue that. He had obviously lost a significant amount of his logical thinking due to Tao’s disappearing. Who was he to trust logic when none of it aided the search to find his little brother? There was no logic when it came to human emotion – particularly not when someone was facing a potential, personal tragedy.

He thought of Jongdae’s words and smiled at the teasing, but it soon fell off his face. Jongdae noticed it and put an arm around Baekhyun’s shoulder in a comforting manner. The older of the two fiddled with his fingers and let his mind wander all over the place without a set goal.

“Baek, you’re thinking too much,” Jongdae sighed and withdrew his arm. “You don’t need to overthink the situation. What you need, is to go to bed and sleep. Allow your mind and body to rest for a while.”

Baekhyun opened his mouth to object, when he felt a finger on top of his lips, effectively shutting him up. Jongdae glared down any disapproval that threatened to slip from between Baekhyun’s lips, and the older cowered. He silently and urgently slipped underneath his own duvet and pulled it up to his nose.

Jongdae had in the meantime replaced his harsh stare with a gentle smile. He mirrored Baekhyun and covered himself with the duvet and reveled in the warmth it offered. He yawned before deciding to say one last thing to Baekhyun.

“Let’s wake up tomorrow and book a ticket back to Seoul, okay?” he offered.

Baekhyun looked at him and responded with a small nod.

“Good. Now sleep.”

Baekhyun watched his friend as he turned around and left the older one to stare at his duvet covered back. He sniffed the comforter and smiled to himself. He really had the best friend in the world. But despite that, he still couldn’t obey his wish, or command, rather. He couldn’t keep thinking about everything that had happened. It made his head hurt.

The amount of what-if scenarios was mindboggling. What if Tao hadn’t left for school? What if he disappeared willingly? What if someone had kidnapped him? What if he was dead?

And the rest of the questions left unanswered for now, made everything more complicated by the minute. Somehow and sometime that night, Baekhyun finally managed to fall asleep. Amidst swirling clouds consisting of letters, words, numbers and question marks.

That night he dreamt of a cat smile, a voice stumbling over foreign vowels, tuffs of raven black hair, menacing glares and warm hugs.

♦

_Date: winter 1997_   
_Location: The Byun’s house, Seoul, capital of South Korea_   
_Time: 16:54:56_

_Objective: Greet the newcomer_

 

The first thing Baekhyun noticed when his father opened the door, was a small box and several bags of clothing in the hallway. His curiosity spiked and he wondered if his mother had finally given in and bought him the new Batman toy he had wanted for so long. Ever since his fifth birthday, to be more specific. But before he got a chance to sneak a peek inside the box and bags, his father ushered him further into the house, muttering something about closing the door before the snow got inside.

He took off his snow covered, knitted hat, muffler and mittens before obediently walking over to stand by a big wardrobe. His father crouched down to help him remove his thick, padded jacket, and his snow boots. He immediately felt the heat slowly warm up his frozen body. It was such a pleasant feeling he almost ended up falling asleep standing upright, with his father still attending to him. But before he had managed to doze off, his father flicked his nose and gathered him into his strong arms.

Five year old Baekhyun was more than content, and let his eyelids flutter shut as he lay his head on his father’s broad shoulder. His father carried him into – what he recognized drowsily by the amount of noise and the smell of something being fried – the kitchen.

He heard a shuffling noise and soon another person was emitting heat next to him and his father. A gentle kiss was pressed into his soft hair.

“Hello, my big and small klutz. I’ve missed you,” his mother said quietly, as he could feel her leaning up to probably give his father a small peck on the cheek. His father hummed in response and took a seat at the table. Baekhyun felt and heard his father’s stomach grumble hungrily and smiled a little. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who had heard it as his mother soon asked teasingly if anyone was hungry.

“Just a little,” his father answered sheepishly before silence fell over them, save from the sound of food cooking on the stove.

Not even fifteen minutes had passed before the food was done. His father sat him in the chair next to him. On the table in front his mother had diligently prepared a full meal consisting of various side dishes, meat and rice. Baekhyun felt himself starting to salivate. In just a few minutes, the kitchen was filled with the noise of chewing mouths, swallowing throats and occasional burps from his father.

Baekhyun was the first one to break the silence. “Mommy, when are you going to give me my new Batman toy? I already know you bought it for me,” he beamed at his mother who, in turn, looked at him in confusion.

“What are you talking about, Baek? I haven’t bought any Batman toy for you,” she said. Baekhyun felt his world tilt on its axis. No new Batman toy. He felt utterly heartbroken and betrayed. Refusing to believe his mother’s words, he chose to question her.

“Then what’s in the box and bags in the hallway?” He pouted at her.

“Yeah, now that you mention it, Baek… Honey, what’s in there?” his father spoke up from beside him. His mother looked like she had been put on the spot.

His mother shifted in her chair before explaining. “I didn’t think I would have to break it to you this soon, I would have rather waited until dinner was finished, but since I’m in a quite good mood, I’ll let you know. You know about that horrible accident I told you a few days ago?” she asked.

His father glanced at her briefly before returning his gaze to the food. “Are you talking about the train accident?”

His mother nodded.

“Has something come up? Any lead as to why it derailed?”

“Not yet, but there is something else I need to tell you about,” she began carefully. She looked at little nervous. “On that train was a small boy, not more than three years old. When he came to the hospital he had been hit in the head by some sort of debris and it had rendered him unconscious. I volunteered to treat him,” she told them.

“How is he now?” his father asked.

“He’s doing alright, it wasn’t a fatal blow or anything…” she wavered off and looked down at her plate.

“But? There is a “but” in there, isn’t it?”

“But his parents were identified as two of the victims,” she admitted quietly. His father gently pried the fork from her hand and held it in his.

“I am so sorry to hear that…” his father said sincerely. He allowed a moment of silence, before he asked the most crucial question of all. “So… what’s going to happen to him now? Have you contacted the boy’s relatives?”

“We’re looking for any relatives, but so far we have found none. The fact that he’s foreign, complicates the procedure,” she answered with sadness lingering in her voice. Baekhyun looked at his parents silently. They both seemed upset, his mother more so than his father, and he didn’t like it at all.

Once again, his mother broke the silence. “So until they’ve found any relatives, I suggested that he could stay with us. I’ve already bought some clothes and toys for him.”

His mother continued before his father had the chance to say anything, “I mean, it’s only for a little while. And we need as many beds as we can get a hold of at the hospital, and while he’s just a little boy, he still takes up one much needed bed. And it’s almost Christmas break so Baekhyun won’t be going to kindergarten so he can stay at home with him.”

His father froze, clearly not expecting such an outcome. He cleared his voice and said, “Well, uh… I don’t think that would be any problem. There’s plenty of room in our house and we can let him have the guest room, I guess. And since you’ve already – and very conveniently – bought him some necessities, I can clearly see that you won’t take no for an answer,” he said as a matter of factly.

His mother smiled at his father, eyes forming into crescents of the moon. She lifted his hand and placed a small kiss on the back of it. “Thank you, my knight.”

His father flushed. “Knight? Um, I suppose I can be a knight. Only for you and Baek, though. And soon the new addition too, of course. I just have one question: is what you’re planning to do – how should I put it -  _legal_?”

His mother gave him an appraising look. “Of course it’s legal,” she huffed, the disbelief at her husband’s stupid question, clear in her eyes. His father scratched nervously at his neck.

“Well, then, I don't see why he can't stay with us, as long as Baekhyun is okay with it,” he said and looked at said boy. His mother smiled at him gently.

“What do you say, Baekkie? How about having a little brother for a short while?” his father asked him while patting his head.

Was his father really asking him what he thought about the suggestion? They were basically asking him if he wanted someone that could play with him every day, someone he could bully and order around, hug, laugh with, dirty down, and teach new things. Baekhyun was stunned, but very excited nonetheless, so he nodded and beamed at his parents.

Not that he thought they would ever consider his opinion anyway.

\------

To say that Baekhyun was excited was almost the understatement of the century. He had been excited for hours and had gotten little to no sleep over night. When his mother had told him the night earlier, when she tucked him into bed, that the boy was due to arrive late evening the next day, Baekhyun had been tempted to run around and announce it to everyone. He was getting a little brother, if only for a little while.

Now Baekhyun sat in the living room couch, dressed in his favourite Batman t-shirt and a pair of his most comfortable pants – he had to be comfortable if they were going to play hide and seek. Next to him sat his father and flipped endlessly through the TV channels. Baekhyun paid no attention to the TV and chose instead to look at the clock. The seconds ticked by, it was nearing eight pm.

“Hey, Baek,” his father addressed him for the first time since they had sat down and waited. He immediately looked at him and waited for him to continue.

“I bet he is taller than you,” his father teased.

Baekhyun stared incredulously at him. There was no way a three year old could be taller than a five year old. In what world would that be possible? It would be against all physical laws. “No, he can’t! He is only three, he can’t be taller than me,” he grumpily said and pouted.

His father barked out a laugh and ruffled his hair affectionately. Baekhyun crossed his arms in defiance and frowned. But just as he was about to tell his father that he was mean and dumb, he heard a key being inserted into the front door. The both klutzes froze and waited anxiously.

Next they heard the doorknob twist, and it seemed to go agonizingly slow. Baekhyun chewed on his bottom lip. The door opened and a gust of chilly, winter air flew in. He heard his mother coo at someone, and then clothes shuffling and shoes being removed. Baekhyun held his breath and next to him, his father was tense.

Then his mother rounded the wall corner and entered the living room. She was smiling brightly, nose and cheeks still tinted pink after the biting cold weather. But Baekhyun couldn’t see a little boy with her. He immediately frowned.

“Where is the boy?” his father instantly asked and stood up to lean right and left, maybe hoping to sneak a glimpse at the family’s new addition.

His mother didn’t say anything, she just continued to smile. Baekhyun copied his father’s every move, and then he saw him. Hidden behind his mother’s legs, stood a boy with black hair and big panda eyes that were locked on Baekhyun. Without anyone saying anything, the boy moved to the side of the legs obscuring his vision, and instead chose to clutch to them from his new position.

His mother patted the boy’s raven hair and introduced him. “Beloved son and husband, I want you to meet Huang Zitao.”

 

♦

 

Baekhyun awoke to the sound of a shower being turned on. He shifted on the bed and squinted at the clock on the wall, it was eight in the morning. Jongdae was up unusually late, normally his best friend was up the moment the sun rose from east. Maybe the news yesterday had taken its toll on him – it had surely done so on Baekhyun. He covered his eyes with his hand. He had been sleeping for almost nine hours, yet he felt absolutely drained, both mentally and physically.

The dream hadn’t helped relieving his stress in the slightest. All it had done was drain his energy even more. But it was a nice dream: the day he met his little brother for the first time.

He heard the shower knobs turn and a curtain being pulled aside. Deciding that he should also get ready to leave, he rose from the bed and started rummaging around the room, gathering whatever belongings he had scattered around: a sock underneath the bed, his numerous chargers that were still plugged in, a couple article drafts, and all of his photography equipment. His clothes were still in his travel bag, most of it untouched simply because he did not trust the hotel’s laundry facility (who knew what kind of detergent they used?), therefore he tried to use his clothes sparsely and not dirty them too much.

His phone lay on a small table next to the window. He had received a message from his parents. He quickly swiped the screen to read it.

 

 **From** : Mom  
 **Date** : April 14th 2016  
 **Received** : 01:30:31

Hi Baekkie.

I hope you’re doing well considering the current circumstances. Your father and I have been questioned by the police late into the night and now we’re back home, but they haven’t told us anything new, yet. Tao’s friends have also been questioned, but the only one we’ve been in contact with is Joonmyun, who hasn’t been told anything more than what we already know. The search parties are looking for Tao night and day, and they’ve put up posters all over town, and his disappearance has been aired on the news. All we can do is hope for the best.

Take care of yourself and Jongdae, Baekkie. As soon as we’re given more information, we’ll contact you.

 

We love you very, very much,  
Hugs and kisses from mom and dad.

 

He held the phone in an almost crushing grip.

“You’re up, I see,” Jongdae’s voice rang from behind him.

He loosened the grip on his phone and turned around to face his best friend. “Yeah, I awoke at the sound of the shower being turned on.”

“Well, someone has to be an early riser to wake your ass up,” Jongdae retorted with a grin which disappeared when his still wet bangs plastered onto his face. “Anyway, go and freshen yourself up and pack everything. We’re leaving for Seoul in three hours,” he stated casually and started picking up his things from the floor.

They were leaving for Seoul in three hours? Since when? He had assumed that they were simply going to go to the airport to book a last minute ticket to Seoul, and the date of departure was usually two days afterwards –  _not_  the same day.

“What do you mean we’re leaving for Seoul in three hours?” he asked incredulously.

Jongdae merely shrugged his shoulders and continued packing. “I pulled some strings and got us on a flight leaving in three hours, so get packing.”

“What kind of strings did you pull, Kim Jongdae? Do you have some secret underworld friends that you haven’t told me about, or something?”

“Secret underworld friends I haven’t told you about?” he chuckled. “Byun Baekhyun, I can’t decide whether I think you’re dumb or  _dumb_ ,” he mocked with a smug grin on his face while Baekhyun simply pouted. “My father knows some higher-ups so I just called the airport before you woke up and told them we wanted out as soon as possible. As easy as pie!”

Jongdae pointed at him with a stern look. “Now get packing, Byuntae!”

♦


	5. Joker

_Date: April 14th 2016_   
_Location: Somewhere in Seoul, capital of South Korea_   
_Time: 04:56:16_

_New Objective: Follow the bread crumbs_

 

Exhausted, he fell limply onto his bed and ended up staring at the cracks in the ceiling. The springs in the mattress creaked like the wooden floors of a horror mansion and it was hard and really uncomfortable, but after a whole night’s mishaps and happenings, he really couldn’t complain.

He at least had a bed and a place to stay at, there were people in the world who had neither. It wasn’t much, but for someone like him, it was more than enough. Located right on top of his office, was the small flat, connected to it by a slim, spiral staircase. The flat itself wasn’t all that impressive. The stairs led straight to his living- and bedroom which was sparsely furnished, only a bed, a small couch, a coffee table, a wardrobe and a few shelves had been put in. All of it old and worn out.

It didn’t matter, though; he wasn’t much for staying at his flat anyways.

His kitchen area, that was more of an extension of his living room divided by only a slim counter, was seldom used. His stove had been used a total of probably ten times, the oven only once, and that was impressive. His fridge was filled with beer and a few bottles of vodka – he preferred his alcohol cold. A few boxes of Chinese takeaway, a half-eaten pizza, a package of butter and some ham, was all there was in his old fridge. There had been a time when he occasionally enjoyed to prepare and cook dinner, but those days were since long gone.

Downstairs, the door leading into the office was an old, but highly efficient, blast bunker door.  _Better safe than sorry_ , had been a life motto of his for the last few years. It had only failed him once.

Jongin shut his eyes, willing himself to relax while really anticipating a few hours of sleep. The damp smell of his apartment comforted him in ways he never really thought it would do. Outside, the rain had stopped a few minutes prior, and it was completely quiet save for the soft sound of droplets hitting the window-ledge remained.

Both his body and mind were so drained of energy, he was certain he wouldn’t be able to walk, and even less so, work for at least forty-eight hours, yet he couldn’t stop thinking about the pocket watch. Its simplistic design, the blood smeared on the lid and the two engraved names. Before he had gotten a chance to study the pocket watch further, Minseok had gotten a call from his superior and had to return, taking the watch with him, claiming that it was a part of the police’s own investigation.

Jongin had been fortunate enough to be allowed to take pictures of it. Eventually, his friend had gone away with the watch in a small plastic bag, securing it from any more external damage. He had tucked the small package into his inner pocket and promised Jongin to give him a call when the forensics have investigated it thoroughly. A quick salute later and he had gone on his merry way to look further into a break-in that had landed him in the park initially.

The photos Jongin took with a small Polaroid camera were now pinned up on one of his bulletin boards. It was a gruesome view. So much blood, so many bodies, some identified and some still unidentified, and so many unsolved cases due to the lack of a sufficient amount of evidence, or witnesses whose testimony had been deemed void of credibility. Then there were the photos of the pocket watch’s two distinguishable initials: B.B. The other name was scratched over, but his friend had promised him to look further into it.

He knew that name and it frightened him to no end. It wasn’t the first time he had come across it, in fact, it had happened too many times for it to be a mere coincidence. Each time it had shown up, something bad had followed or occurred. A car accident, a suicide, a murder, a disappearance – it was to be expected. B.B was the only constant known and Jongin was not about to let it go without thoroughly investigating it further, despite the fact that his previous tries had brought him more dead ends and questions than answers.

The first time he had come across the name was nearly two years ago. A week prior, a brutal murder had taken place in one of the suburbs in Seoul’s outskirt. A man in his forties had been tortured into an almost unrecognizable state, and then stabbed. According to the official police report afterwards, no one had been there to witness the murder and a surveillance camera in the area had failed to record anything. At first, he had thought it was strange, but due to his lack of knowledge about technology, he had soon let the thought dissipate. But there had been something else that was right up his area of expertise.

If he were a normal private investigator, he wouldn’t have gotten permission to first-handedly view the evidence that had been found that day, if ever. However, he was no ordinary investigator given that he had contacts in the police force, so a very big exception was made solely for him. He still owed Minseok a pizza deluxe for giving him the life changing opportunity to take a closer look at the victim.

A pathologist showed him a deck of cards that had been found in the victim’s mouth, where the tongue under normal circumstances would be located. The cards themselves were ripped in some parts and their wan colours indicated that they had been well-used, but when they had found the cards, they were almost soaked in blood. All fifty-two plus the jokers, had been found and photographed for future reference. However, one card especially, had caught everyone’s attention that day.

A joker card had been scribbled over with the same letter numerous times in ink with a ballpoint pencil, specifically the letter  _B_. The letters covered the majority of the card’s surface, save for a few minor empty splotches where the white background was exposed. It was also the only card free from blood, except for a few places where the blood had stained.

Jongin could still remember the putrid smell that had been coming from the corpse’s mouth. It was as if a full bottle of sewer smelling perfume had been sprayed into the mouth (it didn’t have much eau de perfume potential). He remembered that he had to spend the entire evening in the shower, trying his best to scrub off the unworldly scent that had somehow rubbed off on him and his clothes.

The present day Jongin would have undoubtedly done the same.

The investigation had reaped no new information and eventually the case was closed because of an insufficient amount of evidence. The victim was never identified and the murder weapon was never found, though they had been able to decide the cause of death. Initially, they had thought that the man had been stabbed and bled to death, but the new reports showed sign of poisoning, meaning the stab wounds had been administered prior his death.

The name B.B had only led to a dead end. No DNA could be extracted from the man’s body except for his own. The cards were of the same brand that was sold in every convenience- and toy store. And no one had been looking for a missing relative or acquaintance. The newspapers hadn’t even bothered to spare the case a small press item in a corner.

The result had been a whole week of sulking and frowning faces entering and leaving the police station.

And ever since the murder, the name B.B. had continuously shown up. Yet, no one seemed to ever find anything about this mysterious person, although Minseok had proposed that it might have been nothing more than an endearing abbreviation of the nickname baby, claiming it was common to use it on the internet since he used it himself. It had led to no one had taking him seriously for the rest of the day.  

Tomorrow, Jongin thought drowsily, he would go downstairs and count the number of times B.B had shown up – he bet at least over ten times. But right now, his eyelids started to feel heavy, his entire body was numb, if it was from the cold rain or from pure exhaustion, he couldn’t decide. It was probably both.

Sleep clouded his judgment and he started to imagine hearing floorboards creak more than ever before. He was so tired, but the sudden change in atmosphere forced him to stay awake the moment he realized that he hadn’t been imaging the footsteps.

Every single one of his senses were instantly alerted. The creaking sounds came from the floorboards in his office, right below his bedroom. And they were far from normal old-house-old-wood creaking. No, this was the sound of feet padding around in his office. He immediately sprung up from his bed and grabbed his pistol, unlocking the safety hastily, before descending the stairs quietly and carefully. He was light on his feet and he held his breath.

The footsteps in his office still creaked as the person walked around. But it was weird, all he had heard was footsteps. No paper being searched, no drawers being opened and no objects being moved. What could the person be doing?

As he was midway down the stairs, the footsteps suddenly stopped. Jongin halted and listened intensely. Judging by the sound level the last footstep had emitted, the person was standing right outside his apartment door, but he heard nothing. His blood rushed and he could almost feel the effect of adrenaline being pumped around his bloodstream. He closed his eyes to enhance his hearing.

Rain still pelted hard against the windows. The wind howled. Tree branches knocking and whipping against each other. Thunder roaring in the sky. But no footsteps, no ragged breathing and no low-leveled murmur. Nothing but silence.

He held his gun tighter as he advanced down the stair, step by step, slowly, staying still to listen every time he had gone further down. Still nothing. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. He had to be careful with his steps, there were some steps that occasionally creaked worse than an old lady’s hips. The moment his toe touched the next step, the wooden board emitted an awfully loud sound. Jongin cursed under his breath, there was no way that could have passed by unnoticed by his unwanted guest.

He started cold sweating and shivers ran up and down his spine. His hand was clammy as he shifted the hold on the gun.  _Fucking shit._

He swallowed nervously and proceeded cautiously. What a shitty night it was, what a shitty life he had been assigned in general.

When he reached the bottom step, he gently pressed his ear against the stone cold metal door. He could hear the thumping of his own heart, but nothing else. He didn’t move from the place and focused solely on listening and breathing softly. It was difficult. The tense atmosphere in combination with his own thundering adrenaline, which didn’t want anything but to wreck complete havoc; to go completely berserk, didn’t provide any reassurance.

His mind told him to extract information from the person, to ask before shooting, but his heart and body wanted the opposite; they wanted blood to be shed. Shoot before asking, or better yet, punch before asking. Shooting left a detached feeling of victory, but punching, on the other hand, punching let one feel the enemy’s energy diminish with every hit until there was nothing left.

An especially loud creak snapped him out of his mad reverie. Everything was starting to drive him over the edge of sanity. He shook his head and placed his hand on the handle.

_Ask first, shoot later._

_Ask first, shoot later._  The sentence repeated in his head like a mantra. Excessive use of violence was hardly going to be needed.

He inhaled deeply for one last time and counted to three.

He raised his gun.

He slowly unlocked the door, trying his best to stay quiet.

He opened the door.

 

♦

 

The flight had been long and tiring. Sitting cramped in a small seat for more than eleven hours, next to a big, fat, old man with a beer belly and thunderous snoring, was not something he would do voluntarily on a regular basis. Baekhyun had barely gotten any sleep and the food served during the flight was as inedible as charcoal; dry and nothing less than disgusting.

Jongdae had tried to cheer him up in multiple ways for hours, but to no avail. In the end, his best friend had plugged his earphones in to eventually sleep for the remainder of the flight.

It was early in the morning when they landed, the sun had yet to rise, and the moment he had stepped out of the plane, he’d drawn a deep breath and held it for a few seconds. The refreshing Korean air was impossible to compare to anything; it was in a league of its own. It smelt like home. Or, it used to.

Never before had Baekhyun not considered Seoul his home, but in a matter of hours, everything had changed.  _Home is where the heart is_ , the phrase simply didn’t sit right with him anymore. His family was his heart, and now a piece of it was missing. The clouds in the sky were dark and ominous, the weather mirrored his inner turmoil artlessly.

\-------

He did not know how he ended up in his apartment, his mind had started to drift away somewhere between the first and second stoplight away from the airport. He remembered Jongdae getting into the same taxi as him, uttering something Baekhyun couldn’t recall anymore, and then absolutely nothing after that; no more memories, just a lot of blur and incomprehensible murmur.

He stared at the ceiling, the stark white colour burning his eyes, yet he didn’t avert them. Lying on the couch in his living room, hands pillowed behind his neck, and legs thrown thoughtlessly over the back rest, did very little to relax his aching body. His mind was empty, but at the same time it felt like a restless sea, incapable of staying still or focus on one thing. He wanted something to do. He needed something to do, but he was too tired.

He stared at the ceiling, the stark colour still burning his eyes, yet he didn’t avert them. They reminded him of a blank sheet of paper, a blank canvas. His ceiling was waiting for him to fill it with something,  _anything_.

As he was about to drift off into an uneasy sleep, a small, black dot on his ceiling caught his attention. It was tiny, so tiny he, himself, was surprised that he had been able to spot it. The dot was located right before the entrance of his bedroom, standing out like a sore thumb now that he had spotted it. He waited for it to move so he could confirm one of two options: one, it was a bug, therefore by using logic, it should move sooner or later; two, it was an illusion, meaning it would fade away within minutes.

He watched it intensely, but it didn’t move a millimeter from its spot. He gave up and promptly decided that he was either a dirty slob, or a mad man. He opted for the latter option, feeling it represented his current emotional state of mind the best.

He fell asleep to the miserable image of himself in a straitjacket, sitting quietly in the corner of a padded room.

The clock on his TV bench struck five a.m.

 

♦

 

In another part of Seoul, a young man slammed his hand down onto his alarm clock for probably the hundredth time. The snooze button wasn’t working and it was seriously ticking him off. He groaned and cursed at the inanimate object.

“Fucking stupid clock, why won’t you shut the fuck up?”

He sat up grumpily and ruffled his bed hair, failing badly at taming it, the mahogany dyed hair choosing to instead point in every direction possible. He let his long arms fall limply, and threw his head back while closing his eyes. He felt dizzy and uncoordinated, blaming the early hour for every ounce of it. He didn’t understand why his father wanted him to be up at five a.m. Five freaking a.m., what an ungodly hour, especially when his first class wasn’t until ten a.m.

It didn’t even take him more than thirty minutes to get ready for school, all he needed to do was throw on some somewhat clean clothes, tame his hair, brush his teeth, slip into his old, beat-up sneakers and grab his backpack and a sandwich from the kitchen, and run off to school. The walk to school never took more than fifteen minutes - and that was only on days when he felt like strolling around instead of heading straight to school.

But no, his father had other plans for him, clearly. Before he had any more time to spend on condemning his own life and listen to the less than dreamy sound of his alarm clock, a knock resounded in his room and a male voice addressed him.

“Young, Mr. Park, are you decent?”

Great, his butler and babysitter had been so nice to drop by to see if he was decent enough. He snorted.

“Yeah, I’m very decent, Jungsu. My dick, One Hundred Percent Chan, is out in the open, enjoying the fresh air in the company of my two balls, Feisty Princess and Sass Queen,” he replied, annoyed to no end.

“That’s not very amusing, young Mr. Park. Watch that foul mouth of yours,” the butler answered calmly, not letting Chanyeol’s words affect him in the slightest.

“Suck my One Hundred Percent Chan!” he yelled. He had had enough of this shit. Waking up five in the morning was a pain in the ass, having to stand up for hours on row while letting people cover him in various vires and whatnot, was also a pain in the ass, but having to listen to his father’s plans for the day, was the biggest dick in the ass by far – and he was usually not the one on the receiving end.

“Chanyeol, I’m sure your dick is lovely in its own,  _special way_ , but I’ll let you know that if you don’t wash your filthy mouth with some Listerine, I will personally cut your tongue off and feed it to the dogs,” his butler warned, and this time Chanyeol got a little scared.

His butler was a scary man, although his kind appearance was deceiving - that wrinkly face and the round glasses fooled everyone. Chanyeol had doubted his butler’s words only once before, when he was around five years old. It had ended in a landslide victory for his butler and a bottom that had ached for one month. Ever since that unfortunate event, Chanyeol had taken his butler’s words very seriously once he’d call him by his first name.

Heeding to the older man’s warning, Chanyeol swung his long legs over the side of the bed before telling the annoying man that  _no, he wasn’t decent yet, but he would be very soon_.

“Very well, young Mr. Park. When you are decent, your father has required for your presence in the basement. Apparently, there is some new equipment he would like for you to try out.”

“Yeah, yeah, I understand. You can leave now.”

“I will be taking my leave, young Mr. Park,” his butler said, and Chanyeol could hear footsteps fading away.

He groaned even more and fell back onto his bed, arms outstretched like wings. He just wanted to get some more sleep, was that too much to ask for? Apparently it was, he thought as he walked towards his walk-in closet to put on some clothes, even though he would rather walk around town in just his wife beater, boxers and socks. He sighed and switched on the light.

\------

His least favourite place in the entire house, was the basement. Not because of any dark, murky wood, strange figurines, damp air, pitch black corners, and suspicious shadows dancing around, but rather, the lack of everything aforementioned. The basement was empty. And large. And very modern looking. The floor was concrete and the walls were covered by large, white panels in either some kind of plastic or metal, presumably the former, his bet was on nylon fiber. The ceiling was just as dark as the concrete flooring and only a few fluorescent light tubes placed on the walls were lit.

He really hated the basement.

Chanyeol walked towards the middle of the large room and stood there, patiently waiting for the test he would undoubtedly be put through. After a few minutes a loud beep could be heard and the lights were switched off. Above him, a large, red circle glowed revealing a hidden door in the middle of it. It opened and out came, what he recognized it as, a retina scanner. He let it do its job, before it retreated back through the door and the red circle disappeared. Another loud beep rang.

Same old, same old, he thought. The procedure had been the same for ages.

A yellow rectangle glowed on the floor in front of him, he bent down and pressed all of his fingers against it. And yet another beep could be heard. He really disliked the beeping sound. First his alarm clock and now he had to withstand more beeping. He needed to move out of the house before he went insane, because clearly, his entire life was an experiment to test his brain’s durability and functionality in a fucked up environment.

Chanyeol had been able to withstand the torture for over twenty years, but he was quickly nearing his limit.

A static sound filled the basement and a robotic voice delivered the last test.

“What goes around the world, but stays in a corner?”

He heaved a sigh. This was freaking ridiculous.

“A stamp, you robotic moron,” he answered.

“Well done, young Mr. Park. Your father awaits you in his office. Please, proceed through the blue door. Have a nice day,” the robotic voice said before the last beep made Chanyeol itching to murder someone.

A blue door glowed in front of him. He huffed, walked through it and was being greeted by a long and narrow, but lit corridor. At the end, there was a slim mahogany door and a silver doorknob shaped as rose. He put his hand on it without turning, he needed to brace himself before he faced his father.

He really needed it so that he wouldn’t strangle his old man.

Chanyeol turned the knob and stepped inside.

Five a.m. really was too early.

♦


	6. Old Friends and Keys

Jongin expected three different scenarios to take place once he had opened the door. One, he would find that no one had even broken into his office, meaning his brain was assumedly fried beyond measures, two; he would somehow manage to sneak up on the intruder and successfully land a punch hard enough for the person to completely knock out, or three; his entire life would flash before his eyes.

Neither of the scenarios happened, instead, the moment he opened it, he found himself greeting a cold gun muzzle pressed against his forehead. A stream of profanities flooded his head, some directed at himself and his stupid mishap, and some directed at the bastard for being so attentive. 

“Move, and I’ll shoot you at a point-blank range. Make any sound, and I’ll crush your windpipe,” the intruder warned as Jongin felt a cold hand press up against his throat.

Jongin was temporarily blinded by the light streaming from the lamps in his office and had to close his eyes. The bastard must have foreseen that he would take advantage of the darkness, thus switching on the lights, forcing Jongin’s eyes to have to adapt to the sudden brightness. He gritted his teeth. He couldn’t believe himself, he should have seen this coming. This was bad.

“Place the gun on the floor slowly and kick it out of range. Don’t even think of doing anything funny, bastard. I can behead you so fast you will have the pleasure to be able to watch yourself die.”

Even though his senses were all more or less disoriented at the moment, he slowly recognized that voice. The tone; light and slightly high pitched, the faint accent when speaking, barely noticeable, but present nonetheless. He knew this person, there was almost no mistaking who the voice belonged to. Yet, Jongin had to tread cautiously. What if it wasn’t who he thought it was? It could very well be someone entirely else who just so happened to have a similar voice, someone who indeed would not hesitate to behead him.

The cold hand released its grip on Jongin’s throat and he bent his knees slowly, enabling him to place the gun on the floor. As he bent down he blinked his eyes to adjust them to the bright room. He kept his head lowered and his gaze on the ground.

Would he have enough time to dodge his enemy’s attack if he were to shoot him and escape unscathed? Would he even have time to pull the trigger? No, there was no way he would be able to escape unscathed, not with a gun barrel touching his head. Sustaining an injury, fatal or not, was inevitable.

“Stand up and kick it out of range. If you fail to kick it far enough, I will rip off your right leg,” the man warned anew. Losing his right leg definitely was not an option in Jongin’s calendar any time soon.

Should he try to disarm the enemy? A grab followed by a bone breaking twist and an uppercut to the chin, would ensure that the intruder would drop the gun. The pain would probably render him immobile long enough for Jongin to completely gain the upper hand and take him out. It was the best option. Screw firearms, Jongin thought, he was going to have to settle this fist-to-broken fist. A few broken bones and a messed up nose were something he could deal with.

He inhaled and relaxed his muscles.

He made his move.

Everything ended in three seconds blank. And in the end, Jongin found himself gasping for air. His impromptu escape plan had failed miserably, it was quite pathetic and embarrassing how easily the intruder had deflected his movements. The man had thrown Jongin mercilessly onto floor, the impact knocking every ounce of air out of Jongin’s lungs.

Not even a second later, and the man had straddled him and pulled out a knife, which was now pressed neatly against Jongin’s throat. Stars danced before his eyes and no matter how many times he blinked, he couldn’t focus his sight. Things really had a tendency to escalate quickly.

“Don’t you fucking dare to move, you filthy impostor, or I will slit your throat for real this time. Who the fuck are you and what have you done to Jongin?!” the man growled.

Jongin felt uncomfortable. The guy was heavy and his head couldn’t stop spinning, it was as if he had been on a rollercoaster for ten hours straight. The knife had cut a shallow wound in his throat, which had started to itch. He could barely comprehend what the dude was saying, but the moment his own name left the man’s mouth, time froze.

“What…?” he managed to say, breathlessly.

The knife pressed harder against his throat.

“I asked you who the fuck you are, and what you have done to Jongin,” the man growled again, and this time Jongin was ninety percent sure he knew this man. There was only one person in the world with that tilting accent, foul language, and preference for going after people’s throats.

“Luhan,” he wheezed out weakly, “you’re heavy as fuck.”

He felt the other man freeze and soon the pressure against his throat was slightly lightened. He pried one eye open and caught sight of a mop of light brown hair, albeit very blurry. He saw the guy bend forward, probably to examine him closer.

“Jongin?” came a hesitant question. “Is it really you?” The voice had lost its menacing tone and now sounded very much like one of Jongin’s closest friends, Luhan.

Jongin groaned, _this motherfucker_. The idiot hadn’t even recognized him. Not that it came as a surprise, Luhan had always been impulsive and sometimes went way overboard, but to not even recognize his own friend was a new low. To top it off, Jongin was sure he had sustained several bruises and bumps, not to mention the shallow cut on his throat.

He was too tired and breathless to manage to squeeze out anything else except for a simple “Yes.”

The spinning sensation increased when Luhan didn’t move an inch, still putting his entire weight on Jongin’s chest and abdomen. It was getting increasingly hard for Jongin to stay conscious.

“Dude, what the fuck happened to you?” Luhan asked, astonishment more than evident in his voice. He quickly jumped off Jongin, who in turn, was finally able to inhale some much needed air into his currently compressed lungs.

Jongin clasped a hand over his heart, feeling it thumping steadily. He stayed quiet for a few moments before he answered Luhan.

“You broke into my office, I decided to chase down whoever it was that was sneaking around, you threatened me with a fucking gun to my head, I tried to disarm you, and you went all kung-fu fighting on me,” he scowled. “That’s what happened.”

Without having to put his life at stake anymore, he squinted at Luhan who was sitting back with a smug grin, not looking apologetic at all. His light brown hair was disheveled after manhandling Jongin, but other than that, he looked almost as put together and clean as always. Not even his white button down shirt was rumpled. The guy had a knack to knock out enemies without breaking a sweat.

“Sorry,” Luhan said almost sweetly while batting his long lashes. Sometimes, Jongin could swear that Luhan had some nymph blood in him, seeing as he always tried to save himself by either batting his lashes or being overly affectionate and touchy.

“No, you’re not,” Jongin almost snorted out.

Luhan looked at him with wide eyes, probably trying to feign innocence, but once he saw that Jongin wasn’t going to buy his act, he eventually shrugged it off. “Yeah… you’re right, I’m not sorry.”

Jongin shot his friend a look of mock disdain, and sat up, feeling his spine crack in an almost alarming way. He winced.

Luhan whistled. “I got you good, didn’t I?”

“Fucking bastard, if I hadn’t been blinded I would have kicked your sorry ass,” Jongin muttered and moved to stand up. He looked down at Luhan’s smug face and had to stop himself from slapping it. Unlike his friend, Jongin was a fairly considerate person who didn’t hold grudges.

“Turn off the lights, we’ll talk upstairs,” Jongin ordered Luhan who stood up and brushed off his clothes before switching off the lights. They both ascended the stairs without uttering a single word to each other.

\------

“So… what brings you here in the middle of the night? Surely, you must have a good reason for coming here at five in the morning,” Jongin asked as he put down a cold bottle of beer in front of his friend.

Luhan thanked him for the beverage and leaned back in the chair, taking a big swig of the beer before slamming the bottle down onto the counter. He let out a sigh of content, let out a big burp and swiped his mouth.

“I see you haven’t changed your disgusting habits, Lulu,” Jongin mocked.

“I see you still got a stick up your ass,” Luhan retorted.

“Why did you attack me like a ferocious beast? Didn’t you recognize me or what?” Jongin asked and gulped down some beer himself. It wasn’t half bad, but he definitely preferred something stronger.

Luhan pointed at him and leaned with his crossed arms against the table. “You’ve changed, I didn’t recognize you. You look older and a hella lot more like a hobo, just look at that shirt you’re wearing, and when was the last time you showered? You smell like shit.”

Jongin looked down at his clothes. There was a big coffee stain on his dirtied button down shirt, which had been white when he bought it years ago, but now it had turned an ugly mustard yellow. His hands were covered in dirt and whatnot, and he was sure his face was in a just as bad state.

“Well, you look…” he began to retort before promptly stopping himself. He had no come back.

Luhan dismissed his failed attempt at insulting him and continued to explain his former actions.

“I didn’t expect you to be home, I thought you had gone to the usual place so when I heard someone descend the stairs, I automatically assumed it was an intruder of some sort,” he said before he continued, “I was going to punch the person into a pulp just so that you would flatter me for my formidable talents.”

“I would never flatter you, let alone give you my attention.”

“But you are giving me your attention right now, as we speak,” Luhan sang.

Jongin glared at him. They both looked at each other for a few seconds before breaking out in uncontrollable laughter. The kitchen was filled with the ringing sound of childish laughter coming from two, grown men.

“Man, I’ve missed you,” Luhan confessed once the laughter had simmered down. “How’s life been?”

“Same old, same old,” Jongin answered, wiping away a few joyful tears that had gathered in his eyes. “Working on some cases and whatnot.”

“Sounds fun.”

Jongin cocked an eyebrow. “Want to switch lives with me? Right now, I would take a barista job over my own. Besides, your martial art skills would come in more often as a private investigator.”

Luhan huffed and looked at Jongin with an assessing look.

“Nah, I’m fine. It’s not a play in the park, working as a barista, I tell you. If only you knew how many grumpy customers we get each day, you’d be taking your words back faster than lightning,” he admitted while chuckling and took another swig of his beer.

Jongin studied his friend briefly. They hadn’t seen each other for a few months, but Luhan looked almost ten years older than the last time. A stranger would have seen nothing but a blinding smile and twinkling eyes on Luhan’s face, but Jongin knew better. He had seen Luhan’s smiles, he had seen his twinkling eyes countless of times. This night, his friend’s smile was strained and it failed to reach his eyes. The bags underneath his eyes were barely noticeable, but they hadn’t even been there before. Luhan seemed exhausted.

Jongin covered his face with his hands and sighed. “Luhan, I know you’re not here to ask how I have been. Cut to the chase.”

As much as he appreciated a visit from an old friend, this was not the ideal time.

Luhan ceased his chuckling and looked at Jongin with cautiousness, his lips sealed in a straight line and his eyebrows furrowed. A moment or two passed before he spoke.

“I’m here to pass you a thing or two about the case you’re working on, or rather, the _cases_ you’re working on,” Luhan answered.

Jongin was about to interrupt him, but before he managed to get a word in, Luhan had already continued in a hushed voice.

“I spoke to Minseok a few moments ago. He called me and said he was outside my apartment building, wanting to talk to me. Man, he was soaked to the bone with rain and you should’ve seen his stature, talk about rigid. He told me to relay something to you, something about the case you’re working on.”

Jongin frowned. “If he wanted to tell me something about the case, why didn’t he seek me up himself? We met only a few hours ago.”

“Apparently, his excuse was that his colleague had just informed him about this new trace, so he didn’t know anything about it prior.”

“Okay, why did he send you? He could’ve easily taken the car to see me,” Jongin questioned and leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

“He said that he had to finish something at work, probably a few reports if you ask me. Who knows how long he’ll be slaving away at the station.”

“He could’ve called or texted me, you know.”

“Aha!” Luhan exclaimed and pointed a finger at Jongin. “That’s where you’re wrong, my friend! He told me he didn’t want to call or text you because he was afraid someone could be bugging his phone, he said something about a superior behaving rather suspiciously around him,” he clarified before continuing.

“Talk about being a paranoid person, no wonder he thinks people around him are paranoid as well,” Jongin noted.

“Yeah, yeah,” Luhan dismissed Jongin’s comment. “You wanted me to cut to the chase, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, let me ask you something first: have you watched the news lately?” Luhan inquired. He put his elbows on the table and clasped his hands in front of his mouth, waiting for Jongin to answer.

“No.”

His friend nodded. “I suspected that much. You see, two days ago a boy went missing in the heart of Seoul. Without any traces, just pouf, and he was gone. They’re still trying to find more leads, but so far nothing has been found.”

“Okay,” Jongin said slowly. “How does this relate to my case?”

“You know the pocket watch Minseok found?”

“Of course I do.”

“Minseok managed to decipher the scratched out initials. They read H.Z.T.”

H.Z.T, the name didn’t ring any bells in Jongin’s mind. He would have surely remembered a name with the letter Z, but he didn’t know anyone with that name, nor had he ever come across anyone with Z in their name. He motioned for Luhan to continue with a small nod.

Luhan complied. “The missing boy’s name is Byun Tao. After looking into his records, Minseok saw that he was adopted by the Byun family at the age of three. Jongin, Tao lost his parents in a train accident, but no relatives could be found, so the Byuns took him in.”

Jongin hummed in response, still not quite seeing where it would go nor how it was of any relevancy. Luhan reached into his coat and pulled out a bunch of papers. He lay them on the table and pushed them towards Jongin who took them and flickered through them. There were various news articles regarding the disappearance, majority of them nothing more than simple press items, some documents from Tao’s school and university, and a few pictures of him.

Black, fairly short hair, almost pouty lips, and cat-like eyes. Jongin didn’t recognize him.

Amidst the silence, Luhan suggested that Jongin should take a look at the last paper. Listening to his friend’s advice, Jongin pulled out the paper from the bottom. His eyes widened as he read it.

“Former name: Huang Zi Tao,” he whispered into the silence and looked up at his friend across him. Luhan nodded and leaned over the table. “The initials… H.Z.T, Luhan.”

“What’s more interesting is that the Byuns have another son, a biological one,” his friend told him. “And his name is Byun Baekhyun. Fancy that coincidence, yeah?”

\------

The wind didn’t seem to stop its howling any time soon, and the rain had started to pelt down hard against his windows again. The light streaming in from the outside world was obscured by nearby tree branches. The shadows they cast reminded Jongin of the shadow games he played when he was a kid, only this time the shadows were a whole lot more menacing looking.

He sighed. He had gotten a good lead from Luhan and Minseok, but the question now was only how he was going use that information.

Huang Zitao and Byun Baekhyun, how were they related to the murdered man from two years ago? And why was Baekhyun’s name the only constant? Jongin shut his eyes and embraced the darkness the action provided. This case had been proven to be the most headache inducing thing since Justin Bieber’s Baby.

He turned in his bed and wrapped himself in his thin duvet. It reeked of alcohol, but he didn’t have enough energy to spare it a single more thought.

He was too tired to care anymore. If another intruder was to enter his building, he wouldn’t put up a fight. If anyone wanted his life, they wouldn’t get a better opportunity. The weather provided him with a ferocious lullaby. He was certain some people would liken his opinion to a complete oxymoron, but he enjoyed it. Chaos was a part of him no matter how much he denied it.

He fell asleep just as the sun started to rise from east.

 

♦

 

Standing up for hours on row and getting wires taped to his body, was not Chanyeol’s default definition of the word _fun_. Fun for him, meant either going to a concert, dismantling some sort of new device, drumming on his lovely drum set, going to the movies, or simply, eating something delicious. Preferably a good, steaming pizza straight from the oven.

Or getting a good night’s sleep without anyone disturbing him at five a.m.

But due to an unfortunate turn of events, which had been following him for his entire upbringing, getting a good night’s sleep was but a dream, instead, it was replaced with various ear bugs that had to be properly concealed, tiny microphones that had to be invisible and a pair of glasses with a hidden camera.

And just to be on the safe side, Chanyeol had been given a small throwing knife that now lay hidden in a secret compartment of his sneaker shoe. Just a small safety measure in case someone tried to mug him, or something similar.

He looked around. The room he was in had changed over the course of the years the Park family had been living at the estate. When they had moved in nearly a decade ago, the room Chanyeol was currently standing in, had been a secret bomb shelter, filled with various necessities and with walls and doors made of some sort of super metal, he didn’t remember what metal it was – he had been busy admiring the interior of the shelter itself.

It was large, probably larger than his parent’s own master bedroom, or rather, master tower. They basically had an entire section of the house to themselves.

His father had renovated the shelter immediately and replaced the furniture with advanced technology. The walls and floors were covered with the same panels that could be found in the basement, but these ones were dark instead of white. Along the walls were big cabinets which were all code locked, and desks with large computer screens that glowed and hummed softly in the background. It basically looked like a room from a science fiction or spy movie.

Sometimes, when Chanyeol was in a good mood, he felt like a Korean version of James Bond. Albeit a lot scrawnier and uncoordinated with his limbs. At least he could aim somewhat well with a gun and handle whatever advanced technology his father forced him to use.

The room was only accessible through one door, and that door led straight to his father’s office.

“Young Mr. Park, is everything okay?” a voice cut through the humming sounds. Chanyeol quickly turned his head to the right.  

One of his father’s many assistants had been ordered to equip him with what he needed for the day. She was short and slim, and she had long, black hair, ice blue eyes, smooth skin; simply put, she was gorgeous. His father had a penchant to hire good looking people.  Chanyeol didn’t remember the girl’s name, so he coughed slightly, not really knowing how he should address her.

“Uh, yes… I’m fine…” he stuttered, darting his eyes around, looking anywhere but at her face and moving his outstretched arms around a bit. He felt a bit awkward standing on a pedestal shirtless, even though it was somewhat of a daily occurrence. He could feel his face flush.

She giggled softly. “You’ve forgotten my name already, haven’t you?”

Chanyeol froze. He really should improve his non-existent acting skills, seeing as his lack of a proper poker face would surely and gravely limit his chances of staying cool in front of pretty girls. Yet again, he stuttered.

“Uh, n-no, of course not,” he said weakly and felt the flush spread across his chest. He cursed inwardly.

She ceased the taping of wires, removed her hands and put them on her waist. She looked at him skeptically.

He coughed.

Just as she opened her mouth to say something, a static tone filled the room. Seconds later a female voice spoke through the speakers located in the room.

“Young Mr. Park, your father tells you to standby in his office. He will arrive there momentarily.”

The message was followed by a disconnecting tone.

Chanyeol groaned and let his arms fall against his sides. It was time for him to face his father and say good bye to the pretty girl standing next to him with a gentle smile on her beautiful face. Chanyeol gulped, quite sure his face was on fire by now.

She walked to stand in front of him and then patted his chest lightly. She smiled at him.

“Well, it seems you were lucky this time,” she teased. “You better leave, wouldn’t want to keep your father waiting, right?”

Damn, her voice was like silk and it made it hard for Chanyeol to focus. He was trapped; hook, line and sinker.

“Make sure you don’t disrupt the wires, I know they can get a bit uncomfortable to wear, but please, try your best,” she spoke again, swiftly turning around and walked to her purse. She dug around and pulled something out, offering it to Chanyeol who took it.

She buttoned his shirt for him as he looked at the object she had given him. A key. She answered his question before he even got a chance to ask it.

“If you’re ever in grave danger or if you feel like you’re trapped and there’s absolutely no way out, use this key,” she almost whispered, her eyes locked on his buttoned shirt and fingers lingering on his top button.

Chanyeol blinked. _What the hell?_

Before he could react any further, she had pushed him off the pedestal and towards the door. She grabbed his backpack and jacket simultaneously, thrust them into his arms and the very next second, he was standing in his father’s office, still blinking blankly at her through the door opening.

She reached out as if to touch him again, but stopped herself midways and snatched her hand back. Instead, she chose to give him a hushed warning.

“Do not tell anyone about that key, not even your father. Not even if your life is at stake. If you wish to use it, use it in complete silence. Remember, Park, not a word is to be uttered about this.”

And with that she slammed the door shut, a clicking sound indicating the lock going into place.

Chanyeol clenched the key in his hand. This was proving to be a quite odd day.

\------

His father’s office was as big and pretentious as the old man’s ego. Chanyeol sat down in one of the two armchairs in front of the big, mahogany desk. A golden elephant miniature stood proudly on top of a yellow folder. Chanyeol had given it to his father after a school trip to India when he was eleven years old. It surprised him to see his father still using it after all these years.

He looked at his watch. It was a few minutes after six, meaning it had taken him an hour to get wired up and ready for his day. He adjusted his glasses which had slipped down his nose. The new ear bug in his right ear was so tiny he couldn’t feel it at all. This, however, worried him a bit. He definitely would be careful and not push it too far into his ear. He had been instructed not to turn it on until he was at school, so he’d heed to that order at least.

What really boggled his mind, though, was the girl from before. He had met her before, but they had never exchanged any words save from the usual and formal greetings. She usually accompanied his father on whatever business meetings he was attending, even though she was fairly new, having only worked for the Park’s for a few months. But after that rather eventful morning, Chanyeol was going to make sure to at least get to know her name – and hopefully remember it. He sighed contentedly, remembering how her slim fingers had felt against his bare chest.

Minute after minute passed and his father was nowhere to be seen. Chanyeol became restless and decided to pace around in the office. He circled the desk countless of times, sometimes skipping to relieve some stress. After probably his thousandth time of circling the desk, he sat down in his father’s rather majestic armchair and crossed his legs. The moment he sat down in the chair, he felt inexplicably powerful. As if he had the world in the palms of his hands.

He snorted at himself and started to search his father’s desk, hoping to find something interesting. Finding nothing, he leaned back and eyed the folder in front of him. It spoke silent urges to him just by laying there. His fingers started to itch. A small peek wouldn’t hurt anyone.

A second later he had moved the elephant on top aside by a few millimeters.  Another few seconds after that, and the elephant found itself standing proudly at the very edge of the desk, leaving the yellow folder completely exposed to Chanyeol’s curious eyes and prying fingers. He glanced at the door and listened carefully. Nothing. He quickly turned the first page and was greeted by two portrait photos of two different boys, possibly high school photos with the cloudy background and school uniforms giving them away.

At first glance, the two boys looked nothing like each other. One had jet black hair and a set of eyes that almost seemed to wish the worst upon anyone looking at his picture. Chanyeol frowned. Somehow, the boy was familiar, he had seen him somewhere before. The eyes in particular ignited a feeling of recognition within him. Were they classmates? No, that was not it. The more he thought about it, the deeper his frown got. The boy’s name was stated below, but it still didn’t ring any bells.

Redirecting his focus in the meanwhile, he glanced at the other boy and his breath immediately got caught. He definitely knew that boy. Although the boy had dyed his hair, there was no mistaking the person striking a stereotypical graduation photo pose. The puppy eyes, the thin lips; the overall appearance was a dead giveaway. Baekhyun. Also known as one of the more whimsical persons in his class. They had barely spoken to each other despite being in the same class for almost five years; three years in high school and two years in university. Chanyeol didn’t know much about Baekhyun except for his tendency to behave like a complete moron sometimes, earning him the nickname class clown.

It wasn’t as if Chanyeol disliked Baekhyun; he just didn’t care for him or his antics.

And as he read Baekhyun’s last name, it dawned upon him. Byun Tao and Byun Baekhyun. They were brothers, of course. Chanyeol felt dumb.  

But the question was: why did they interest his father?

Chanyeol scanned the rest of the folder, searching for an answer with furrowed brows, but what he found made his heart beat faster and faster for each passing second. Confidential documents, medical journals, candid photos, and personal information; they were all there. In the yellow folder. On his father’s desk.

Everything in that folder was a severe invasion of privacy, akin to something similar to stalking. It was illegal. Surely, what Chanyeol himself did with the undercover bugging wasn’t within the frame of legality, but his case was not as severe as the one he had just encountered. What he did was spying on _society as a whole_ , not on specific individuals – at least, that was what he tried to convince himself. But he found it hard to stand his ground and felt himself gradually falter.

Chanyeol felt sick, his head spun nonstop and his heart beating at an unhealthy pace. He threw the folder onto the desk, away from him. He didn’t want to touch it anymore, he didn’t want to know what his father was doing and why the Byun family’s two sons were involved.

He stood up and covered his mouth with his closed fist. He had so many questions and the answer to those questions lay with his father. Yet, something stirring in him did not dare to confront his father. It was ridiculous, he knew it. It was his father, for heaven’s sake; he did not have any reason to fear his own father. His father, who had raised him diligently for over twenty years, hugged him whenever he had been upset, and supported him.

But in the back of his mind, Chanyeol knew his father could be manipulative, untrusting, greedy, and a man who thought of his fellow men as nothing but fodder; all for the sake of business. In a way, it was fascinating in Chanyeol’s eyes. Twisted, yes, but fascinating nonetheless. And although his father could get on his bad side quite often, Chanyeol still loved and looked up to him, and that alone was enough for him to give his father the benefit of doubt.

Chanyeol sat back down in the armchair across the desk. For now, he was going to forget what he had just found out. For all he knew, it could have been just a mere coincidence that his father had taken an interest in the Byuns. Or maybe the Byuns were the bad guys and his father kept an eye on them to ensure his family’s safety.

Or maybe, it was none of it, and something entirely else was taking place.

He sighed and took off his glasses to rub his eyes. “What a messed up morning,” he muttered to himself. The ungodly wake-up call, the weird, but sexy assistant, and the Byuns; it had been a while since he experienced a morning as eventful as this one.

He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, determined to get a nice little nap while waiting for the old geezer to finally enter his office. After all, the clock was ticking and soon Chanyeol had to leave for another day at school. He pried one eye opened and looked at the clock. One hour left.


	7. Observation

One week had passed since Tao’s disappearance and no traces had been reaped from the investigation, none at all. The university Tao attended had given the police their surveillance tapes, but no matter how they bent and twisted the video recording, they were unable see any trace of Tao entering or leaving the school grounds. This information was insignificant as it did not help the police to either narrow down the time of the disappearance, nor did it provide any motive behind it.  

His friends and classmates were clueless as to what could have happened to him. A majority of the students were surprised by his disappearance, stating that Tao was a highly approachable and charismatic person who, more often than not, wore his heart on his sleeve.

“Although he wore his heart on his sleeve, he was never one to act purely on impulse. Yes, he cried easily, but he would never break down into a sobbing mess and start rampaging,” one of his female classmates told the police in an interrogation.

Another classmate explained that Tao had no enemies of any sort. “Sure, it’s impossible to be on everyone’s good side, but rather than hating Tao, there are people who are indifferent to him. Nothing more, nothing less.”

The interrogation with his parents was just as fruitless. There was no reasonable explanation for him vanishing into thin air. They claimed Tao had never expressed any want to run away from home before, not even when there had been internal conflicts.

Initially, there had been some minor speculation about the possibility of Tao being kidnapped, but no ransom had been requested in exchange for his release, and the kidnapping theory soon faded, although it was not ruled out.

All news stations ceased reporting the disappearance after one day.

 

♦

 

_Date: April 21 st, 2016_   
_Location: Seoul National University, Department of Communication_   
_Time: 11:30:20_

_Objective: Observe_

 

Hell week. If the latest week had been hell week for him, he couldn’t even begin to imagine what the week had been for his best friend. After all, he wasn’t the one whose brother had disappeared without a trace.

Jongdae sighed deeply and looked out through the rather dirty school window. The otherwise blue and cloudless sky was obscured by dried, gray raindrops on the glass. They were the tiny and almost invisible flaws in an otherwise picturesque image of a perfect sky.

After letting his gaze linger on the outside world for a few more moments, he forced himself to refocus on the lecture. Criticism of the sources was on today’s agenda, not that they had already covered the subject during their first year, but their teacher had thought a minor repetition would benefit them in the long run. Jongdae agreed. Even though, he had trouble differentiating what was true, planned, false, or pure speculation nowadays.

He glanced at the chair besides him. It was empty.

Baekhyun hadn’t gone to school nor had Jongdae managed to get a hold of him. He didn’t answer his phone calls or texts, making Jongdae increasingly worried. He was going to visit his friend today, and he was going to go there completely unannounced and do his best to be there for Baekhyun. A week of isolation did no good for anyone, but a week of isolation due to sorrow, confusion and grief was like a grenade waiting to explode.

A mahogany dyed head across the room caught Jongdae’s attention. He looked at the person with narrowed eyes.

Sitting in the far back had its advantages. It enabled one to have a clear view of everything taking place in the classroom; every ball of paper being thrown, every student throwing their head back to maybe stifle a yawn, every person surfing the internet on their laptops instead of paying attention to the lecturer, and everyone who turned their head back to observe what those in the back row did. Or to note down those who were absent.

Maybe that was what the mahogany head had been doing for the last couple of days, noting down the absence of Baekhyun next to Jongdae. Seeing as the mahogany haired and very tall classmate of theirs, who previously had never paid them any attention, recently had started to glance back at their seats, more so Baekhyun’s seat, Jongdae noticed.

Jongdae couldn’t recall the student’s name despite having been in the same class as him for nearly two years. All he knew was that the student had seemed gradually becoming more fidgety ever since he had started glancing backwards. Jongdae had met his eyes a few times and so far he had been met with the same reaction every time; wide eyes and a face looking like a deer caught in headlights, quickly turning his face around to face the front instead.

It had happened a total of ten times that day alone and it wasn’t even noon yet.

Jongdae frowned, maybe the guy knew Baekhyun. Although it was strange since he had never seen them speak to each other. He was going to ask Baekhyun about it today, Jongdae noted to himself.

He leaned back in his chair and started noting down what the teacher had written on the whiteboard, thinking that whatever the guy’s motive might be, Jongdae could at least help Baekhyun catch up on school once he came back.

\------

As he stood by the bus station, waiting along with several others, he watched the mahogany haired guy get into a silver car parked outside the campus. As the giant had settled into the driver’s seat, he looked up and locked eyes with Jongdae who flinched at the intensity behind them. The look the guy was shooting him was different than the one he usually gave in the classroom. Maybe it was just his own imagination fooling him, but Jongdae thought he saw some sort of fierce determination and frustration in them.

The contact lasted for at least ten seconds before Mahogany guy and his car left their parking slot. Simultaneously, a big, red bus blocked his vision. Jongdae snapped out of his trance and got on the bus almost absent-mindedly.

When the bus speakers called out Baekhyun’s station, Jongdae was still caught in a trance and almost missed getting off. Once outside on the street, he found himself breathless. He coughed and the moment the tension in his chest lifted, he inhaled a good amount of fresh air and clasped his chest. He was truly feeling like some kind of drama queen fit for a d-movie. But he couldn’t shake the image of Mahogany guy’s eyes, no matter how hard he tried. It proved to be very, very difficult.

He walked slowly down the streets of the suburban area Baekhyun’s parents lived in. His friend’s house was at the very end of the street, giving Jongdae some time to take in the environment and think about, well, things. The sun had started to settle, coloring the previously clear blue sky in hues of yellow, orange and red. The suburban area looked like the neighborhood in Desperate Housewives. Jongdae laughed at his own silly thoughts. Imagining Baekhyun as one of the backstabbing vultures, made him ease his mind for a while.

All too soon for his liking, he reached the Byun’s house. It was a bit more modest than the rest of the villas in the area, but quite lavish nonetheless. Baekhyun’s mother really had a detail for design.

Jongdae peered at the top window on the second floor. The curtains were drawn and no light seemed to float through them. His best friend had become a mole, it was now official. The other windows had artificial light streaming from them so it was unlikely that Baekhyun was home alone. Jongdae sighed and walked towards the door. It was time for him to do some damage control.

He rang the bird-shaped doorbell.

Mrs. Byun had an _interesting_ eye for detail.

\------

“You look like utter shit,” Jongdae deadpanned.

He poked his best friend in the forehead who swatted his offending hand away.

“You don’t even know what otter shit looks like. For all you know, otter shit may very well be fabulous,” Baekhyun snorted out.

“I said _utter_ , not otter, you fucking idiot.”

“Whatever. What are you even doing here?” Baekhyun muttered.

“No, the real question is: what are _you_ doing here? Why are you not at your apartment?” Jongdae almost spat out at his friend. The frustration which had been building up within him, threatened to spill over. “I have called you at least fifty times a day and I have sent you just as many texts, yet, you’ve ignored them. Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

“Well, why worry in the first place? Just go on with your own fucking life!” Baekhyun yelled back at him. His friend’s chest was heaving and tears had formed in his eyes.

None of them said anything, a heavy silence falling over them as they were frozen in place, throwing hard glares at each other. No one wanted to be the first one to yield from the ongoing battle.

Jongdae’s head ached. He was at a total loss for words. Baekhyun’s words had stabbed him where it truly hurt. Although, he was aware of his friend’s emotional state of mind, but having Baekhyun subconsciously implying that their friendship was so easily broken by Tao’s disappearance, the comment didn’t make it hurt any less.

Jongdae looked at his friend quizzically. His friend, whom right now was curled up into a ball wrapped in a thick duvet. The room was devoid of natural lighting thanks to the drawn curtains and various things lay strewn all over the bedroom floor. Jongdae huffed and in a quick move, he pulled the curtains roughly aside, finally letting some light in. Baekhyun, however, shrieked and ducked his head under the cover.

Jongdae, who had had enough of his shit, swiftly pulled the duvet off him and threw it determinedly onto the dirty floor.

“Look here, you little dipshit. Just because your brother’s been missing for a week, it doesn’t mean that you can lock yourself in your room and be miserable. You look like shit, you smell like shit, your room looks like it’s been bombed by both an atom bomb and a sewer bomb. The Baekhyun I know, would have gotten his ass up and looked for his brother himself instead of behaving like a damsel in complete distress, or even worse than a damsel in distress,” Jongdae nearly shouted at his best friend.

He stomped his foot in frustration. “Get up, get into the shower and brush your teeth, and maybe then I won’t have to beat you to a pulp.”

Baekhyun looked at him with surprise in his eyes. His mouth hang agape and not a single word left his otherwise retort-spitting mouth. Jongdae ignored his face and pointed a finger towards the hallway, in direction at the bathroom.

“Now!” he ordered one last time and watched with mild fascination as Baekhyun immediately scurried away in less than a second, leaving a small gust of wind behind him. Feeling rightfully satisfied with himself, Jongdae grinned and started cleaning up the debris in Baekhyun’s room. His words were harsh, but his actions were gentle, he told himself proudly.

He promptly ignored the little voice in his head telling him he was lying, as well as the ever present feeling of sadness and betrayal his best friend had thrown at him.

\------

“Sorry,” was the first thing Baekhyun blurted out when he reentered his room after his shower. Jongdae looked up from the book he had been scanning. His friend stood by the door opening looking like a kicked puppy with his droopy and bloodshot eyes.

Jongdae sighed and put down the book. He held out his hand and told Baekhyun to throw him a towel, which the latter did. “Sit down, I’ll help you dry your disgusting hair,” he said.

Baekhyun immediately did as he was told and sat down on the floor with his back to the bedside and between Jongdae’s knees.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything, you simpleton,” Jongdae murmured.

Baekhyun ignored his words as he let a tiny ‘sorry’ again before a comfortable silence fell over them, but it wasn’t long until it was broken.

"So… when are you going to become a proper human-being again?” he asked while helping Baekhyun to dry his hair with the fluffy towel.

“I don’t know, Dae. I don’t even know what I’m doing with my life right now,” Baekhyun mumbled almost inaudibly.

Jongdae stopped ruffling his hair for a couple of heartbeats before he reassumed his given task.

“You know, you can’t stop living.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Jongdae dropped his arms and looked at the back of Baekhyun’s head in silence. He sort of felt like his frustration wasn’t entirely justified. He had never been unfortunate enough to have his brother go missing – unless they were playing hide and seek. Furthermore, he knew how close Baekhyun and Tao were. They had an inexplicably strong bond, it was almost unnatural in a sense. It was a well-known fact that twins were connected in an almost unearthly fashion, but not even a bond as strong as that, could compare to the Byun sons’.

Losing Tao must have been like living in the seventh inner circle of hell for Baekhyun.

He gave his best friend a few more rough strokes with the towel before he threw it next to him on the bed.

“Done,” he announced to Baekhyun, who in turn, nodded and stood up. Jongdae watched him as he put on a clean t-shirt. The t-shirt, Jongdae recognized, was one of Tao’s old ones. Copper brown with a supposedly cute panda printed in the front. It was too big for Baekhyun’s small frame, making him appear almost dwarf-sized in it. He let out a chuckle.

Baekhyun faced him and look at him quizzically.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

Jongdae shifted his position to a more comfortable one and answered:

“You look like a dwarf in that shirt.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“That colour suits you,” Jongdae mused, voice laced with sarcasm. Baekhyun just stood there, looking at him.

Jongdae was about to throw away yet another sarcastic remark, but strangely, his voice got caught in his throat. His heart began thumping in a probably unhealthy fashion, it was like as if a fierce storm was wreaking havoc in his chest.

The t-shirt caught his attention, or more so, the _colour_ caught his attention. It reminded him of someone; someone he had only paid any attention to the recently. Mahogany guy. Jongdae swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Hey, Baek,” he began. His friend hummed in response as he kicked a few items on the floor into a corner.

“Do you know the guy with mahogany dyed hair in our class?”

Baekhyun stopped kicking and appeared to be trying to recall a guy with mahogany dyed hair in their class. Meanwhile, Jongdae gnawed slightly on his bottom lip. Maybe Baekhyun didn’t know the guy, after all, Jongdae had never seen them speak to each other before. Could the mahogany guy have taken a romantic interest in his best friend? As ridiculous as it sounded, it was a possibility. Though, a clear and loud voice inside his head, told Jongdae that he was being beyond ridiculous.

“A guy with mahogany dyed hair,” Baekhyun repeated to himself silently as he had started to shift back and forth on his feet, “who the heck has mahogany dyed hair?”

“He is tall and has brown eyes, if that information is helpful,” Jongdae offered. Baekhyun simply shot him a fleeting glance before looking out through the window with his hands on his waist.

Baekhyun resumed his mumbling. “Mahogany dyed hair, tall with brown eyes.”

“He usually sits in the front row,” Jongdae provided with some more information.

As soon as the sentence had left Jongdae’s mouth, Baekhyun’s face lit up in recognition.

“You mean Park Chanyeol?”

“Park Chanyeol?” Jongdae asked hesitantly, the name sounding familiar.

“Tall, like a basketball player, kind of short hair, big and stupid grin, and Yoda ears,” Baekhyun helped him.

Jongdae was about to comment on his best friend’s description of Mahogany guy’s Yoda ears, before he decided it could wait for another time. All he wanted and needed right then, was answers. “Yeah, that’s probably him. Do you know him?”

His best friend thought for a second before he spoke. “Well, we have been in the same class since high school, but we have never spoken to each other or anything. I doubt he knows who I am,” he said before he added, “Why do you ask?”

“Well, he has been behaving quite strange this entire week,” Jongdae answered. He motioned for his friend to sit down next to him on the bed. Baekhyun took his advice and sat down, swiftly reaching out for a fluffy pillow before settling down comfortably next to him. Jongdae took it as a sign for him to continue.

“He has been more – I don’t know what to call it really – fidgety? Nervous? He’s been glancing backwards frequently and the trajectory of his glances have, in the majority of the circumstances, been in the direction of your chair. Next to me. Which has been empty for nearly a week now,” he explained to Baekhyun who sat silent and looked at him with big, brown eyes.

“So?”

“Baek, he glared at me from across the parking lot when I was waiting for the bus. Let me tell you one thing; it was creepy as fuck. You should have seen his eyes, he looked like he could kill anyone for whatever reason,” he tried to reason with his friend.

Baekhyun snorted and let out a small laugh. “Have you gone paranoid, Kim Jongdae?”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Jongdae let out a frustrated sigh, “A guy who’s been in the same class as you for almost five years, but who’s never even spoken nor paid any attention to you even once, is suddenly looking as if he’s searching for you and throwing me nasty glares, and you don’t find it strange?  Mind you, this has been going on for an entire week. And do you know what happened a week ago?” Jongdae took a small pause for the sake of impact.

Baekhyun’s eyes had widened after his last sentence. Jongdae swallowed before he continued his rant, “That’s right. Your brother went missing a week ago. Are you seeing the red thread here?”

“So?” his friend said silently.

Jongdae nearly choked on air. _So?_ Was that the only reaction his friend gave him after that he had explained the situation? Did he not think it was strange?

“So? You don’t find it strange at all?” he asked with confusion. He barely managed to restrain his urge to shake his friend violently. Brown eyes simply looked back at him.

“Uh, no? I mean, sure, it’s a little strange, but it doesn’t imply anything? Maybe he’s worried about me, despite us never having interacted before. He could very well be one of those overly empathetic persons you hear about every now and then. Maybe you’re just overanalyzing things, Dae.”

Jongdae froze. He knew himself well enough to know that he had a tendency to overanalyze things, but this was something entirely else. It was not him analyzing an occurring event or circumstance. To analyze a situation, he needed to first and foremost use logic, but with Mahogany guy – or Park Chanyeol – there was no logic involved. Where was the logic in a person looking fidgety one second only to lock eyes with him like a ferocious beast the next second?

It went against his nature to worry about illogical things, but he felt like there was no escaping the recent and minor clash. Yet, the more he thought about it, the more Baekhyun’s words made sense. Jongdae felt himself heat up, but if it was in embarrassment or frustration, he did not know. He clenched his jaw and looked away from Baekhyun’s brown eyes.

“Hey, Jongdae. We should go downstairs and get something to eat, the dinner is probably done,” his friend spoke up after a few minutes of silence. Jongdae jerked, he had been so lost in his thoughts Baekhyun’s voice had struck like lightning.

“Oh,” he said absentmindedly, “yeah, sure.”

His friend shot him a worried look. “Hey, are you okay?”

Jongdae nodded and gave Baekhyun what he hoped was a gentle smile, although it felt more forced than anything. He knew Baekhyun wouldn’t fall for it, but despite his poor acting, Baekhyun pretended to buy it as he turned on his heels and walked down the stairs. The situation was almost absurd. Jongdae was the one who had gone to Baekhyun’s house to comfort him, not the other way around. Yet, it felt like he hadn’t accomplished what he had come for, instead, it was Baekhyun who had a calming effect on him.

Jongdae shook his head in frustration. He felt as if he was slowly losing his mind. He only had one choice left; he had to ask this Chanyeol guy in personal what his intentions were. Jongdae took a deep breath to calm himself down before he was going to descend the stairs. But as he looked outside through the window, a heavy feeling settled in his stomach. Even though the surrounding environment looked about just the same as when he had arrived, he half expected to see a familiar silver car parked in a distant corner with a tall, mahogany haired guy discreetly scanning the area after Baekhyun. But there was none.

He released a breath he didn’t know he had held.

As he finally descended the stairs, he hoped the sinking sensation in his stomach would be relieved by the food Mrs. Byun had put on the table.

It didn’t, and he left the Byun’s with an ever present feeling of uneasiness lingering in the back of his mind.

 

♦

 

After Jongdae had left after dinner, Baekhyun found himself on the dark blue, carpeted floor in his room. He had heeded to his friend’s words, and swept the floor clean, as well as thrown out all the empty food boxes he had had littering around. 

Baekhyun closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. In and out, in and out. _Breathe in through the nose, and exhale through the mouth._

Breathe in the scent of his family, and breathe out the last ounces of his remaining sanity.

It was a mistake for him to go back home to the family house, he should have just stayed at his apartment and isolated himself for the remainder of the year, but the thought of being alone had frightened him more than anything. It was not the notion of him being all by himself that had frightened him, no, it was the gnawing and overbearing feeling of him wanting to protect his family that had made him shiver.

Deep down, he felt guilty. Guilty because he couldn’t save Tao; because he couldn’t have foreseen his brother’s disappearance. Baekhyun knew he should have called Tao more often whilst enjoying his trip to Paris. He should have written more letters, he should have let Tao know that he would always be there to save him, no matter what. It was his lifelong obligation as a big brother, something he had sworn to himself. But he had failed.

He had failed.

He was a failure. He had failed at being a good big brother, he had failed at being a good son, he had failed at being a good friend; he had failed at being a good human being. And in Byun Baekhyun’s life, failure was not an option.

Looking up at the ceiling in his old room, made him even more depressed. The ceiling was covered in tiny glow-in-the-dark stickers in the shape of stars and various celestial bodies. Some were bigger than others, and they all glowed in colours of the rainbow.

They had put them up when they were younger, him and Tao. It had been just a few weeks after Tao had begun his stay at the Byun’s. His mother had explained to Baekhyun that Tao didn’t know a single word of Korean, so he had taken it into his own hands to teach the younger some.

As a child, Baekhyun had found astronomy eerily fascinating. Even though he couldn’t grasp the more complex principles surrounding the universe and outer space – because, hey, he was only five years old at that time – he had still enjoyed studying the night sky. Watching the endless amount of glittering stars in the distance had had a calming effect on him as a child.

It was only natural that the first thing he had taught Tao, was words related to astronomy. To make it easier for Tao to remember all the new words and names, Baekhyun had suggested that they recreated the night sky on his ceiling. Thankfully, his parents had agreed and the very next day, he and Tao had found themselves in Baekhyun’s room at noon.

Curtains drawn, lights switched off, door closed, and literally hundreds upon hundreds of sparkling stars and planets, glowing gently. They had laid on the carpeted floor, with Baekhyun pointing at various stars and elements while telling Tao their names and the proper terms, and Tao repeating everything in mumbled and accented Korean.

They had laughed the entire day, and soon, laying on the floor, facing the stars, had become one of their favourite doings. 

The present day Baekhyun smiled gently at the memories, as he studied the exact same constellations and celestial bodies. A tear found its way down his cheek, but he didn’t bother to wipe it away, another one would follow moments later anyway.

“Hey, Tao. Do you see the big, red star to the far left?” he whispered into the confinement of his room. Another tear rolled down his cheek.

“It’s called the Aldebaran. It’s the brightest star in the Taurus constellation, Tao,” he continued as he noticed his voice wavering slightly. He swallowed the lump in his throat and mentally told himself to compose himself, if only for the sake of his own pride.

“Tao, I’m a Taurus. What’s your star sign?”

He paused and waited for a response that never came.

“You don’t know? Well, when is your birthday?”

His heart ached more and more.

“You don’t know when your birthday is? That’s sad. Everyone should know their birthdays. I got an idea. How about I help you pick out a temporary birthday date?”

The first sob broke down the first wall he had desperately been fortifying to no avail.

“How about we pick a date close to mine? That way we can both be Tauruses!” as soon as he had finished the sentence, the remaining and once protective walls, all crashed down simultaneously, and he felt what was left of his sanity hitting the bottom of the ocean.

He couldn’t hold it back anymore. It had been a week. A week. Seven days. And still no trace of Tao. The hope he had been clinging onto, slowly slipped out of his grasp more and more for each passing second.

Not only that, but he had also managed to anger Jongdae because of his distressed state. As he cried into the darkness of his room and the night, he recalled Jongdae’s words. _The Baekhyun I know, would have gotten his ass up and looked for his brother himself instead of behaving like a damsel in complete distress, or even worse than a damsel in distress._

The Baekhyun Jongdae knew would have gotten his ass up and looked for his brother himself. The sentence struck a chord within Baekhyun. He froze and opened his eyes. He was facing his bed, or rather, the space between his bed and the floor. Jongdae’s words echoed in his head.

A small key lay underneath his bed. It was surrounded by dust and dirt, but Baekhyun didn’t recognize it. It was very small, even for a key. He reached out and took it into his hand. Then a spark of recognition shot through him.

_The Baekhyun I know would have gotten his ass up and looked for his brother himself._

How long he stood in silence, just looking at the silver key in his hand, he had no knowledge about. Keys, they unlocked lockets, doors, lids, openings; but most of all, they unlocked answers. And Baekhyun had many questions.

_The Baekhyun I know would have gotten his ass up and looked for his brother himself._

Baekhyun let out a strangled chuckle. Fuck Kim Jongdae and his tendency to be right. He rose from the floor and wiped away the tears from his face. He rolled his shoulders back and forth, slowly but surely relaxing the tense muscles. He let out a full-blown laugh.

“Kim Jongdae, you fucking idiot. When did you get to know me better than myself?” he asked silently and looked out through the window.

The moon shone with the same silvery glow as it had when he was a small child, dragging his younger brother out late at night to lay on the grass and watch the stars together. And now, as he looked up at the starry sky, he could immediately tell the Taurus constellation apart from the others. It was the result of countless nights spent trying to distinguish the tiny dots forming the constellation.

Baekhyun opened the window and leaned against the window pane. He closed his eyes for a second and embraced the chilly spring breeze fluttering against his skin. It woke him up from the emotional chaos he had been experiencing for the last seven or so days. He was stunned by how easily his sorrow and misery were replaced by resolve and confidence. His sorrow and misery were his fuel, while his resolve and confidence acted as his engine.

He was going to find out the truth, he needed to find it.

But he felt tired. Not emotionally tired like before, but physically tired. The rollercoaster of events had taken its toll on him, he was looking forward to some sleep. Just as he was about to close the window and retreat to his rather smelly, yet welcoming bed, something caught his attention. He frowned and drew back from the window, cowering slightly in the shadows.

A black car was parked a good distance down the road. He had never seen it before, but he highly doubted it belonged to any of his neighbors. Sure, the neighborhood his parents lived in was not the cheapest in the city, but that car looked like it cost a small fortune. He squinted his eyes and tried to focus on the driver. He appeared to be tall and bulky by the way his back and shoulders almost dwarfed the backrest. His arms were thick, but Baekhyun was sure that what was hiding underneath the black shirt the man was wearing, was most certainly muscles and not fat.

As Baekhyun tried to distinguish the man’s facial features, he locked eyes with him. Dark, red eyes looked straight at him with murderous intent. Baekhyun quickly ducked behind the wall. His heart thumped in his chest. What the actual fuck? Red eyes? He waited for a few seconds before he dared to peek outside again.

The car was gone. He let out a sigh of relief. The murderous intent in the man’s red eyes had caused him to break out in a cold sweat. He gulped and closed the windows in a swift move with the curtains following not even a second after. He grabbed his phone on his desk and plugged his earphones in.

After that small event he needed some music to calm himself and his racing heart down if he wanted to get some sleep.

 

 _Paranoia is in bloom,_  
The PR, transmissions will resume  
They'll try to, push drugs that keep us all dumbed down  
And hope that, we will never see the truth around

On the borderline between consciousness and unconsciousness, Baekhyun almost snorted at the lyrics coming from his earphones. What a fitting song.


	8. One to Six

_Date: April 22 nd, 2016_   
_Location: Somewhere in Seoul, Capital of South Korea_   
_Time: 00:25:12_

_Objective: Information Exchange_

 

His phone vibrated on the table. Sitting up properly from his leather armchair, he used his long arms to grab the device. Despite its rather big size for a phone, it looked like a children’s toy in his hands. He swiped the screen and read the message.

 

_**From:** #13 _   
_**Received:** 22/4/16, 00:25_

_Yo. What do you know about the Park family?_

 

He had half the mind to not reply the message. After all this time, how dared Thirteen contact him just to take advantage of his services yet again? He scowled and rose from the chair. He walked around his desk and approached an open bar standing proudly in his large office. He poured himself a glass of scotch whiskey.

Chivas Regal Royal Salute, 50 years old. There was nothing quite like it. He took a small sip and let the flavor spread across his tongue. The raisin and anise taste was exquisite, no wonder a single bottle cost over ten thousand dollars. But it was worth it, every single cent.

Finally feeling a bit more generous than usual, he went back to reply the text message.

 

_**To:** #13_   
_**Sent:** 22/4/16, 00:32_

_What Park family? There are quite a few._

 

He didn’t need to wait for long for a reply. Thirteen must have been working on something important.

 

_**From:** #13_   
_**Received:** 22/4/16, 00:32_

_Not sure, but the family is rich and has a twenty-something year old son named Chanyeol. Look it up for me. I’ll give you a cookie and a pat on your head the next time we see each other._

 

He scowled. Thirteen had a knack at pressing the wrong buttons within him.

 

_**To:** #13_   
_**Sent:** 22/4/16_

_You fucking disgusting cockroach. You have a lot of guts to ask me to do anything for you, considering how well it went the last time, you fucking parasite. The answer is no._

He slid the phone over to the other end of his desk and ran a hand through his bleached hair. It had gotten long, he needed to cut and re-dye it soon. His phone beeped for the third time. He scowled again.

 

_**From:** #13_   
_**Received:** 22/4/16, 00:33_

_I have a bottle of Chivas Regal Royal Salute with your name and a red ribbon on it. And I’m not the one inquiring information about the Park household, the small duckling is and we all know how much you like him._

_He says he would have contacted you personally, but his phone is malfunctioning. iPhone, it was only a matter of time._

He grunted and typed in a quick reply.

 

_**To:** #13_   
_**Sent:** 22/4/16, 00:33_

_Fine, I’ll look up the Park family for the duckling. Don’t even for a second think that I’m doing this for you, asshole. This is solely because I happen to like the duckling._

_I better see that bottle of Chivas on my doorstep tomorrow night, or else I will torture you to death._

 

He really was only doing it because of the duckling and the bottle of Chivas Regal. He sat down behind his desk again and picked up the receiver to his rotary dial phone and dialed a number. The receiver picked up within seconds.

“Good evening, boss.  What may I assist you with?” a female voice answered. It was difficult for him to filter out her voice from the background noise. The music threatened to drown everything, and the occasional giggle made its way through the speaker.

“Evening, Tiffany. Can you send up Zhang Yixing to me? I got a job for him.”

“At once, sir,” she replied before he hung up. Fast and reliable, that was how he liked his workers to be like.

Only a few minutes later a knock sounded through the room. He turned the armchair to face the door before he ordered it to be open. In the door opening stood a young man in his twenties. His black hair was short and swept to one side. He was of average built, but the boss knew that underneath the crisp suit and clean cut appearance, there lay a heartless savage, coupled with both a sharp mind and lethal kicks. The man smiled and bowed.

“Good evening, Yixing. I’ve got a job for you,” he acknowledged and the man stepped inside his office before he shut the heavy door.

“Yes, boss Wu. What is it you acquire my assistance for?”

He crossed his long legs behind the desk and spoke.

“I want you to find out everything there is to know about someone named Park Chanyeol. Allegedly, his family is rich and he should be around your age. Narrow down your search as much as possible and pull out all the records on all of the potential candidates, both official, unofficial and confidential reports. I want everything on them on my table by midnight.”

The young man bowed once again.

“Yes, boss Wu.”

The boss dismissed him with a wave of his hand. As Yixing was about to walk out through the door, he said something barely audible.

“You’re as stiff as ever, Kris Wu. Loosen up, man.”

The door closed a second afterward, effectively sealing off Kris from the outer world. He chuckled at Yixing’s words. To think that the man had the audacity to address his boss by his real name without any title.

He took another sip of his beloved scotch whiskey and leaned back into his chair. He was a powerful man, but sometimes a life of power was anything but eventful. He rested his head against the backrest. For now, he would have to suck it up, there was no other way. At least, he would get a new bottle of Chivas tomorrow to entertain him and that was enough for now.

But only for now.

 

♦

 

_Date: April 26th, 2016_   
_Location: Seoul National University, Department of Communication_   
_Time: 09:25:35_

_Objective: Stay Sane_

 

To almost everyone’s surprise, Baekhyun returned to school after a few days. He was welcomed back by everybody and there were some who even offered to help him catch up with their assignments, which he politely declined – Jongdae had kept him updated. 

His best friend had only shot him a small, crooked smile when he had entered through the classroom door. He had kept his gaze on the floor, blushing furiously under all the greetings his classmates threw at him – even his teacher had patted his back during his entrance.

“It’s good to have you back with us, Baekhyun. We almost began to miss your snarky remarks, you know,” his teacher teased him as he handed out a new assignment. Baekhyun merely gave him a stiff smile and thanked him for the paper.

Jongdae nudged him in the side. “Wow, you’re such an important individual around here, Baekhyun. Your comeback even landed us a new assignment! I will forever be indebted to you,” he mocked. Baekhyun retaliated by poking Jongdae in the thigh with the edge of his newly sharpened pencil.

His friend cried out in pain, but didn’t retort in any way. After a short while, Jongdae whispered, “Welcome back, mate.”

Baekhyun smiled at him.

As the lecture began, they both went silent and focused on the whiteboard and the teacher’s words. At one point, their teacher showed them a short video clip to broaden their understanding about disinformation. In the safety of the dark, Baekhyun shot a quick glance at the front row. The person he searched for wasn’t on the right side of the row, so he turned his head to glance in the other direction.

A pair of curious brown eyes looked back at him. Baekhyun blinked in surprise and embarrassment. Park Chanyeol was looking at him. The contact lasted less than a second, though, because the moment they locked glances with each other, the mahogany haired giant, averted his eyes faster than lightning. Baekhyun gaped. Jongdae had been right again, but there was no way he would tell him that, he didn’t want to boost his friend’s ego more than enough.

As his first day of school passed by rather uneventfully, Baekhyun found himself sleepier than ever. By lunch, he had already been reprimanded by Jongdae for his frequent yawning on several occasions.

The two friends ate their lunch under “their” tree on the campus grounds in silence, when suddenly, a couple of hands covered Baekhyun’s eyes from behind. He tried to swat them away, but to no avail. Jongdae laughed so hard he almost ended up wheezing at Baekhyun’s poor attempts.

“Ha! You’re never going anywhere in your life if you can’t even swat me away, Baek!” the offending object teased from behind. Baekhyun knew that voice.

“Joonmyun, I swear on everything that’s good in life, that I will spank you into obedience!”

“My, oh, my. Is that how you’re supposed to address your seniors?” Joonmyun mocked and whistled, but he let go and plopped down on the seat next to Jongdae.

“Hey, Baek. Long time no see. It’s good to hear that you’re back,” the senior said and stole one of Jongdae’s candy bars. Jongdae protested at first, but soon gave up when he realized that any shot at reclaiming his candy bar would be futile.

Baekhyun smiled at Joonmyun’s words. Although, he was their senior, Joonmyun often took the time to sit down and chat with them occasionally during their shared lunch breaks. Baekhyun knew Jongdae was very close to the elder, seeing as they had been neighbors for a long time. In contrast to Jongdae’s mischievous smile, Joonmyun’s was gentle and calming.

“Yeah, it’s good to be back. You know, to distract myself,” he tried to sound reassuring, but his voice shook a bit. Both his friends noticed and their smiles fell.

Baekhyun laughed in a try to lighten up the mood. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Eventually,” he gnawed on his bottom lip and looked expectantly at his friends.

A candy bar hit him right between his eyebrows. He felt a sting of pain and his hands shot up to shield himself from any more potential attacks.

“You’re a fucking idiot. Let us worry about you, you’re our friend, you spineless parasite,” Jongdae spat at him. Baekhyun was rendered speechless, but eventually lowered his hands and clasped them in his lap.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

Joonmyun smiled gently and pinched Jongdae in the arm as punishment for throwing a candy bar at Baekhyun. “It’s okay, Baek. It’s good that you’re letting us help you,” the senior said. Jongdae huffed.

“W-what?” he stuttered out. They both beamed at him.

“We’ve decided to help you out in your search for Tao,” Jongdae confessed. Joonmyun threw an arm around his best friend. Before Baekhyun could utter a single syllable, Joonmyun cut him off.

“I don’t want to hear whatever objection you’re about to utter, so shut your trap, Baekhyun,” the older reprimanded him before he continued, “We both made up our minds the same night we heard about Tao’s disappearance. Just in case you’re trying to think of another way to sidestep our help, don’t forget that Tao’s our friend too. We have every right to feel justified to look for him.”

“So let’s hear your resolve, Baekhyun,” Jongdae spoke up beside him.

Baekhyun blinked at his friends, speechless, surprised, happy and grateful at the same time. “Thank you,” he said and looked down at his hands. What good had he done in his life to deserve such good friends? He tried to blink away the tears that were threatening to fall.

“Don’t thank us. Show us how grateful you are by telling us your resolve,” Joonmyun spoke softly.

“No, scream it out! Let the whole world know that you’re not someone to mess with!”

“Shut up, you moron!”

“What’s with the crude language, mister class president and heir to the chairman position?”

“Kim Jongdae,” Joonmyun gritted out.

Baekhyun laughed at his bickering friends. They hadn’t changed much during the years he had been lucky to know them, and truthfully, he didn’t want them to. For the first time in a week, he felt himself smile and laugh sincerely. His smile still didn’t reach his eyes, but the corners of his mouth turned upward, if only slightly.

But the moment he spotted a familiar, black car standing in a faraway corner of the parking lot, he stopped his laughing. Baekhyun swore it was the exact same car he had seen in his neighborhood a few days prior. If it was one thing he was good at, it was recognizing objects, and there was no mistaking it; it was the same car. His mouth went dry and his hands got clammy. The driver sat in the driver’s seat, looking straight at him. Those same red eyes. The same murderous intent.

The time stood still. The driver averted his eyes and drove the car away, disappearing from Baekhyun’s sight and the campus grounds in a matter of seconds.

An arm grabbed him and he immediately jerked back. He flailed his arms and barely avoided falling off the bench. He looked at his surroundings with frightened eyes before Jongdae and Joonmyun came floating into his vision. They looked worried.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Jongdae asked.

“Yeah,” he said breathlessly, “I just felt a bit faint,” he explained and dared to look in the direction of the parking lot again. The car really was gone. Joonmyun followed his eyes, and turned around to also look at the parking lot.

“Did you see something strange?” he asked Baekhyun, who merely shook his head dazedly.

“Maybe you’re just tired?” Jongdae suggested with a hint of worry in his voice.

“No, I’m fine,” he assured his friends and shot them a small smile.

They looked unconvinced, but gave him the benefit of doubt. Jongdae look at his wristwatch. “Looks like we have to cut the reunion a tad short, Baek and I got to get going for next period.”

They said their good byes and headed back towards their designated classroom, but Baekhyun was lost in his thoughts. The red eyed driver set off several alarms in his head. He shivered despite the warm spring weather. He contemplated whether or not he should tell his best friend about the driver, but decided against it; he didn’t want his friend to worry more than necessary.

The driver could have dropped someone off. Or it could be a pure coincidence.

Or something else.

\------

Baekhyun was pretty much drained of energy when he stepped on the bus to go home. He could barely walk in a straight line and bumped into several people in his pursuit after an empty seat. Midway into the bus, someone shoved him hard enough to make him fall to the floor. People around him complained and told him to get out of the way, when he felt a hand grab his upper arm and pull him up.

“Sorry, folks. He’s just a bit tired and confused. And his muscle coordination hasn’t been functioning properly since eighth grade,” he heard someone explain to the other passengers. Baekhyun didn’t recognize the voice. And what the hell was that about his muscle coordination?

The man didn’t give Baekhyun a chance to look at him and instead proceeded to push him further back in the bus.

“Hey,” he tried to protest, but a particularly hard push landed him in an empty seat at the very end of the bus. A man immediately sat down next to him and hushed him.

“Hi there, Byun Baekhyun,” the young man said and smiled. He had raven black hair that was swept to the side, and slightly tanned skin. He looked mighty fine, Baekhyun admitted to himself, even though he did look a bit haggardly with his unshaven stubble and dark circles under his eyes. Baekhyun regained his wits when he realized what had just happened.

“Hey,” he managed to protest, “Do we know each other or something?”

“Not yet, we don’t,” the young man admitted, “but I reckon we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other soon,” he said and pulled out a phone from his pocket. “Well, to be frank, I know a lot about you and your life, family and friends,” he added after some reconsideration.

“My name is Kai and you’re possibly in danger, Byun Baekhyun,” he said urgently and thrust the phone into Baekhyun’s hand. The journalist gaped at him. _What the actual fuck?_

“You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?” he asked Kai incredulously.

“Actually, I do. And can you please keep your voice down, I don’t want anyone to overhear our conversation,” he said almost nonchalantly and looked at the street they were passing. He stretched his neck as if he was in search for something. Meanwhile, Baekhyun had been rendered speechless. His mind had been emptied due to the absurdness of the situation.

Kai disregarded Baekhyun’s distant look and spoke in the same hushed voice. “I need you to answer the call that’s about to be made to that phone,” he said and pointed at said device in Baekhyun’s hand, “Listen and follow the instructions given, okay?”

Without waiting for Baekhyun to answer, he continued, “If you need more proof, look at the alley to your left in three seconds,” he ordered.

Stunned, Baekhyun felt his body act on his own and he found himself looking out through the window. The moment the bus passed aforementioned alley, his heart sank. It was the same car again. And the same driver. For the second time that day, he was frozen in place because of the intensity behind those red eyes. However, he snapped out of it the moment Kai quickly slapped him across the face.

“Wake up, puppy. I’m getting off the bus at the next stop. Answer that call or else I can’t guarantee that you’ll ever make it home alive,” Kai said with stern eyes. The bus pulled to a stop and Kai was gone before Baekhyun had time to react.

His entire body trembled as he looked at the phone in his hand.

He felt numb.

The phone vibrated in his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have written ten chapters so far (working on the eleventh), and they have all been published on aff. I try to remember to update here on ao3 as well, but well, my memory is lacking a little bit OTL 
> 
> Oh well, thank you so much for reading this! C:


	9. Rendezvous

“Yes?” he answered carefully. His heart threatened to jump out his chest and run its merry way to another country. His vision was getting blurry, the other passengers in front of him were reduced to nothing but floating colours and shapeless pools of different hues.

Baekhyun had gone through extensive crisis-simulation exercises during his first year at university. For roughly a week, the journalism students had been taught how to act in dangerous situations; for example, what to avoid, who to trust during various circumstances, and where the line between doing one’s job and simply putting oneself and others in unnecessary danger, was. It had been an interesting week.

Of course, none of it had been enough to prepare the students for what was going to come out in the real world, but Baekhyun had thought it was as close they were going to get as mere students. And he had been naïve enough to think that he had a few years ahead of him before he got caught in the midst of a brewing storm.

How foolish he had been.

Nothing he had been taught at school could have prepared him for anything like _this_. This absurd position he had been put in.

He knew he couldn’t trust Kai; he would be absolutely idiotic for doing so. Yet, there was an odd tingling sensation in his fingertips. Suddenly, the sounds coming from his surroundings receded until they were nothing more than humming noises, and the only thing that still could be heard loud and clear was his own breathing and the voice speaking to him through the phone.

“Count to three bus stops, and on the third, get off, do you hear me?” the voice asked, or rather, ordered. Baekhyun recognized it – it was Kai. Busy streets could be heard in the background.

“What is going on?” he asked as his voice cracked, “I demand to know what is happening. Who are you? How did you know about the red eyed man? Answer me!”

“Listen,” Kai started calmly, “I swear on your current level of confusion, that I will answer all of your questions, but unfortunately for that, I need you alive. Do you understand?”

Baekhyun didn’t budge. “How do I know you’re not on the same side as him? How do I know that you’re not after me to kill me in a nearby alley or kidnap me? Tell me how I can be sure of this,” he gritted out.

The speakers called out the first station. People were getting off and on, not even saving him the slightest thought. Something about the scenery was off, he noticed the more he looked at the inside of the bus. The colours were getting duller and duller, and darkness was seeping into the edges.

“You just have to trust me,” Kai argued rather weakly.

Baekhyun allowed for a moment of silence. He closed his eyes and focused on the movement of his chest and the expansion of his lounges every time he drew a breath.  Kai couldn’t simply think anyone would buy an argument as weak as that one. To trust a complete stranger. A stranger who may or may not have been a psycho.

“Hey, Baekhyun,” Kai addressed him, softly yet urgently; time was running out. “Do you ever trust your gut feeling?” he asked.

Bewildered, Baekhyun answered without much hesitation, “Sometimes, but mostly not, and that’s with good reasons.”

“Well, now would be a good time to act on it, or at least try it out,” Kai declared. Baekhyun thought he sounded breathless, as if he was jogging or walking at a fast pace.

Second bus stop. More people got off the bus and more seats were starting to be left vacant. He felt lightheaded and the onslaught of a headache was showing its signs.

“This is crazy, you’re crazy - heck, maybe even I’m crazy, because I’m sitting here contemplating whether or not I should listen to you. I’ve fallen to a new low even by just considering following your instructions,” Baekhyun exclaimed as silently as he could and let out a strangled laugh that sounded more like a dying whale’s noise. He massaged his left temple.

“Okay, you said you had some answers. What kind of answers do you have to offer that may or may not perk my interest?”

Baekhyun was not willing to blindly follow a stranger into his own impending doom just because his gut was telling him to do so. There were occasions when his gut had been right, but they were few and came seldom, and they were not enough for Baekhyun to disregard logic at any given time.

“I have answers about the red eyed man. Why he has shown up everywhere you have gone, and who he works for. I have answers about Park Chanyeol, your classmate whose sole focus for the last week has been you, and I have information about-“ Kai’s last word was drowned by the bus’ speakers calling out the third stop, but Baekhyun had heard it. Loud and clear.

The last word was also the reason Baekhyun almost dashed out of the bus the instant the doors opened. He found himself nearby a high school building. The school grounds were empty save for a couple of students playing basketball after school hours. He looked around on the streets in the calm surrounding. There was barely any people, only a few lonesome individuals strolled or whisked by on the streets.

“Are you out?” Kai inquired on the other line.

“I can’t fucking believe myself. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid,” Baekhyun murmured to and at himself. The prior sensation of an oncoming headache only manifested itself more and more, making Baekhyun clench his eyes shut. “But yes, I am out. Now what?”

“Look around. Do you see a house with a burgundy chimney?”

Baekhyun stood on his toes and scanned the area after said chimney. Far off in the distance, he spotted a barely visible burgundy colored brick chimney.

“Yes, I see it.”

“Good. You have ten minutes to get there,” Kai urged.

“What?” Baekhyun croaked out, “You can’t be serious, it’s kilometers away from my location. How am I supposed to reach it in just ten minutes without knowing my way around this area? Are you confusing me with Superman, perhaps?” Baekhyun questioned.

“Look, I don’t want to pressure you or anything, but it’s of outmost importance that you reach that chimney in ten minutes, because that is how long it will take for your, so-called, shady stalkers to realize that you’re not on the bus on your way home,” the other explained before adding; “Ten minutes is all you’ve got and I suggest you spend them wisely - and not on questioning or arguing with me,” and with that, Kai hung up and left Baekhyun to decide his next course of action.

Baekhyun gritted out a curse and shoved the phone into his pocket. He turned towards the direction of the chimney and took off in a run. He found himself almost gasping for air after merely three minutes and he wasn’t even half way there. He cursed for the second time in a row over his lack of stamina, and mentally promised himself that he would hit the gym sometime in the future. But when that opportunity would reveal itself in his current situation, he didn’t know.

The various street turns and alleys hindered his advancement towards his destination, and he ran into dead ends more often than he would have liked to. The peaceful neighborhood sharply contrasted the bizarre occurrence he had landed himself in.

While he ran, he found himself thinking about Kai’s words. The other guy had offered him answers; answers Baekhyun couldn’t be so sure he had, yet, there was a nagging feeling in the very pit of his stomach. It wasn’t fear as much as it was suspicion.  Suspicion over this Kai person. Suspicion over his own involvement, and suspicion over Tao’s disappearance.

Too many strange things had occurred in such a small timespan, and it was highly unsettling. The way he acted himself by listening to a stranger who had made almost unrealistic claims, was what had surprised him the most. Byun Baekhyun, who, even though he was easily swayed by his emotions, viewed the world through glasses of skepticism and rationality. Skepticism and rationality that now seemed to have flown out through the window.

He glanced down at his watch as he made a fast break onto another street. Six minutes had gone by. He ran without paying any attention to his surroundings. Never once did he look back, he just kept his gaze forward. He was closing in on the chimney’s location, but with the pace he was going at, he knew he wouldn’t reach it within the remaining time. Knowing his own physical limitations was not exactly rocket science. 

As he passed a small bakery, he felt the phone vibrate in his pocket. Baekhyun heard a string of profanities through the receiver and allowed himself to frown and slow down into a moderate jog.

“Fuck, shit, damn, fucking motherfucker. _Fuck_!” he recognized Kai’s voice.

“Uh, hello?” Baekhyun asked in a small voice.

“Baekhyun! The plan has been uncovered, fuck! Get the fuck out of wherever you are, and hide somewhere!” Kai sounded frantic, and it made Baekhyun’s heart rate drop.

His body froze and he turned his head in every direction he could manage. The world spun around him in a blur of colours. The almost picturesque streets that had been lined with the sun’s warming rays, suddenly, didn’t look so inviting anymore. The shadows seemed to grow bigger and bolder every millimeter the sun passed the horizon.

“No, no, no, no. This can’t be happening,” his voice failed him when he saw something he had been dreading for almost a week. Far off in the distance, a familiar black car sped towards him.

His legs threatened to give out under him and shivers ran down his spine.

“Baekhyun!” he could hear Kai yell at him, “Baekhyun, get the fuck out of there. Do you copy?”

“No,” came his silent reply.

 

♣

 

Chanyeol left school earlier than usual. Why, he didn’t know - he just did. It was as if his body had acted entirely on its own without paying any regard to what he thought. His lanky limbs were hard enough to control without having them act on their own. Skipping a class or two was hardly a problem for him, he would have no problem catching up on his own later.

The microphone attached to his chest by a small strip of tape, itched. He squirmed around in his clothes as he walked on the sideway, trying to do something about the irritating sensation. People gave him strange looks – not that he blamed them, witnessing a stranger wriggling in his clothes like an enchanted snake in broad daylight, was probably not a common sight.

When the method wasn’t working the way he wanted it to, he snaked a hand from the front and underneath his t-shirt and scratched the offending piece of tape. He let out a sigh of relief and visibly loosened up. He straightened his back and rolled his shoulders back and forth. Chanyeol let out a sigh.

His head hurt more than it usually did. It wasn’t a striking and blinding pain associated with sudden migraine, it was more of a thumping deep within the very bone of his skull. Aside from the pain, he found himself unable to keep his mind off Baekhyun. The smaller man had been on his mind ever since he had so stupidly poked his nose into his father’s business.

Chanyeol hoped his face had remained somewhat stoic, even while his mind had been ever brooding and troubled. But he knew himself all too well. He knew his poker face was non-existent. And it had been evident in the way Baekhyun’s friend, Jongdae, had started to meet his glances gradually. The incident at the parking lot a few days earlier, made him want to slam his head against a brick wall repeatedly. How he could have been as idiotic as to let his emotions shine through in a moment of mental weakness, was beyond his own understanding.

Had his father known about the incident, he would have surely beheaded Chanyeol the moment he had stepped through the door.

Today, when Baekhyun had stepped into the classroom, Chanyeol had felt his heart skip a beat. Not in the typical, romantic way like it was common in Hollywood blockbusters, but in a fight or flee sensation. He had wanted to escape the confinements of the classroom, just so he wouldn’t had to be in Baekhyun’s mere presence.

Things hadn’t developed for the better when he had been unable to restrain his urge to glance backwards at the very cause of his inner turmoil during the screening of an instructional video. And boy, had he been shocked to see Baekhyun brown eyes meet his wandering eyes. As expectantly, Chanyeol had at once averted his eyes and sat facing the whiteboard for the remaining of the lecture.

He had left with Baekhyun’s brown eyes etched into his mind. Even now, as he was on his way home, he could barely stop himself from biting his nails in frustration.

Chanyeol stopped in the parking lot and stood there, looking at his own reflection in his car’s shiny surface. Within a second, he had promptly turned around and walked away. He simply felt for a long, calming walk home. He doubted anyone would be able to break into his car without using an unrealistically efficient blowtorch. Besides, when would he have time to enjoy a warm and glowing spring afternoon on his own if he didn’t take it into his own hands?

He plugged in his earphones into his phone and started browsing his numerous playlists. He settled on a mid-tempo list with genres like jazz, blues and old school rock music. Tapping the screen, his earphones soon played a familiar piano melody accompanied by Freddie Mercury’s uplifting harmonies. Chanyeol smiled to himself, feeling entirely at ease for the first time in what felt like a century.

Music was _the_ remedy of his life. It had saved him in the past, it saved him now, and it would most certainly save him in the future.

The music stopped abruptly and was followed by a short signal indicating an incoming text message. It was from Kyungsoo, one of his best friends, who asked if he could hitch a ride home after school. Chanyeol huffed at his friend who was showcasing his lazy and cheap side. He typed in a reply saying he hadn’t felt well enough to sit through the entire day and therefore had left earlier. Kyungsoo replied with a simple ‘ _OK_ ’.

Chanyeol walked with his home as his desired goal, but he felt more adventurous than he had in a while, so he deliberately took several detours. He knew the city like the back of his hand, he could never get lost here. Having lived in Seoul for the majority of his life, he had had plenty of spare time to explore the city and carve the streets into his memory. Sure, it had been on his father’s list of requests and expectations, but Chanyeol had enjoyed it nonetheless. 

As a child, his strict upbringing meant he hadn’t been given many opportunities to socialize and play with other children, but when he had been given the order to go out and familiarize himself with the outer world on his own, he had been ecstatic. It had been an order he had been honored to follow. Up until then, his only friend had been his younger cousin, Oh Sehun, but soon Chanyeol had befriended several children in his own age.

All of this, he had kept from his father’s knowledge. Both out of fear and out of respect. Fear, because he hadn’t wanted to be reprimanded for spending time with “dirty people”, and respect, because he didn’t want to sully his father’s reputation by making it known his son was rebellious and disobedient.

When his father had found out about his newly acquired friendships, it was as if hell had been let loose. He had been forced to quit talking to his friends, and they and their families had been threatened into silence. For a young child in Chanyeol’s age, it was a hard blow against the world he had fought so hard to build.

Of course, things had changed and his father had eventually grown more lenient, but Chanyeol still felt the same urge to please his father and tried to choose his friends wisely. Kyungsoo had been one his father had deemed worthy of his friendship. He still didn’t know why his father thought so highly of Kyungsoo, because, honest to truth, Chanyeol’s best friend was nothing but ordinary in the very essence of the world. Average life, average grades, average attitude – albeit a bit more introverted than others – and just, overall average. And average people were seldom thought of highly by his father.

In the beginning, he had often wondered if their friendship was some secret set-up his father had administered behind his back, but the more they spent time together, the more Chanyeol had chosen to bury those thoughts within himself. But he was sure of one thing: he treasured their friendship deeply.

Back on the street, Chanyeol turned another corner and continued down a cobbled road, humming silently to himself. He was so lost in the music that he didn’t see the person standing in front of him before it was too late.

He bumped into the smaller body with strength that surprised even himself. They both lost their footing and found themselves lying on the street. When he looked up to apologize to whomever he had bumped into, he let out a small whimper when he saw who it was.

There on the street, was Byun Baekhyun, holding onto his own hand. A hand that was bloodied.

 

  
♣

 

Things could have gone a lot worse, at least in Baekhyun’s opinion. When his giant stalker had conveniently caused him to fall and injure his hand, Baekhyun had first wanted to fling him against the nearest wall and punched him hard in the face. But he soon came to realize that what said stalker had done, was actually to snap him out of his current trance.

He turned his head around and looked for the phone which had slipped out of his grip when he had fallen. It lay a few meters ahead of him and he quickly reached for it, ignoring the worried questions streaming from Chanyeol’s mouth.

“I’m so sorry. So, so, so, so, sorry. I didn’t pay any attention. Oh, my God. You’re hurt! We need to take you to the hospital!”

Meanwhile, Baekhyun pressed the phone against his ear, only to hear Kai express his own worry.

“Baekhyun! Are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here,” he said, getting more and more frustrated.

“What happened?”

“Nothing happened!” he hissed, “I just, got shocked by something.”

“What?” Kai asked, confusion lacing his voice. He sighed and spoke again, “Okay, I don’t know what happened, but you need to get the fuck out of there. Do you copy?”

This time, Baekhyun answered with only a little hesitation. “Yes.”

Kai answered immediately, “Good. Find somewhere safe to hide, and I’ll notify you when we’ll put plan B in motion,” he said before the line disconnected.

Baekhyun bit his lip and moved to stand up when he was suddenly pushed back down by large hands.

“No, don’t move! You’ll only injure yourself more. Wait here, I’ll call for an ambulance,” Chanyeol said and reached for his own phone.

Baekhyun, who had had enough of bullshit for one day, stood up with a force that almost knocked the taller guy over. He grabbed Chanyeol’s collar and pushed him against the nearest wall. A crunching sound could be heard as a head met with bricks. Baekhyun pressed himself close to Chanyeol’s face with anger fueling his actions.

He met his classmate’s frightened eyes with a stone cold look of his own.

“You,” he growled, “I don’t know who you think you are or what you have done, but if I ever find out that you had something to do with my brother’s disappearance, I will shatter every bone in your body. Slowly,” he threatened, meaning every word he spoke.

After another glare down, he let go of Chanyeol’s collar and turned on his heels. Finding a safe place to hide was more important than beating down a simpleton. He ran away as fast as he could, realizing with dread that precious minutes had gone by with him stuck in one place.

\------

A safe place.

Baekhyun needed to find a safe place to hide until Kai contacted him again. He had first thought of the one of the possibly safest places in the world: a bank. But he had reconsidered due to one sole fact about banks: their surveillance. How safe would he be in an environment surrounded by cameras and audio recording equipment?

Usually, people would answer ‘Why yes, of course you’re safe in such an environment! That’s what the surveillance gear is there for. To ensure yours and everyone else’s safety by capturing potential criminals and such on recordings.’

On one hand, Baekhyun would agree with a statement like that, but on the other hand, one important factor couldn’t be neglected: the kind of people who could access the recordings. What the public knew, and what happened behind the scenes.

Kai had mentioned several persons: the red-eyed stalker and his employers. From that fact alone, Baekhyun could deduct two things: one, his red-eye stalker was probably a hit man, and two; he must have offended someone gravely. Baekhyun’s instinct told him his stalker was not your everyday psychopathic killer on a monthly rampaging streak. No, this guy was a hired goon who wasn’t meant to stealthily follow his mark; he was a chess piece in a psychological game, meant to instigate fear into his victim.

It was a well-known strategy. Instigate enough fear into a victim and soon the victim will finish itself off. The case would be classified as a suicide and no one would be suspected of having underlying motifs.

But there was another well-known strategy most commonly used in kidnappings: the notion of pretending to be the “good guy”, the hero, only to seconds later kidnap the person foolish enough to buy a trick as cheap as that. And there was one person who fit the description more than Baekhyun would have felt comfortable with. But he had ran out of choices.

Then there was the unknown variable that always seemed to fuck his algebra grade in high school. That one little letter which seemed to be outlandish, when in reality it was the solution to the entire equation. Except now, the letter wasn’t as small in size anymore, rather it had taken the appearance of a tall giant with mahogany dyed hair and ears like Yoda.

He shivered as he ran.

 

♣

 

“Are you sure about this, Jongin?” Minseok asked on the other line.

Jongin huffed as he snaked his way through the swarming streets of downtown Seoul. Work hours were done for the majority of people, effectively making it increasingly difficult for Jongin to navigate through the crowd.

“Of course, I’m not, you idiot.”

“Then why do this in the first place?” his friend rebutted, “Why go through this effort to ‘make sure the facts are right’? Jongin, are you fucking nuts? The evidence showed Baekhyun’s involvement! You can’t turn an eye to that. Everything is there. You have witnessed some of it yourself - _I_ have witnessed some of it myself,” his friend said. He sounded frustrated.

“I don’t know, Minseok!” he blurted, “I don’t know why I’m doing this, or why I’m doubting the evidences, myself, and you. But believe me when I say this, but I found something about Baekhyun that somehow makes a piece of me question his actual involvement.”

“Then turn him in to the police. I can let you question him here while he’s under custody. Don’t go around and play this cat and mouse game outside the frames of legality. You know very well my influence is greatly limited,” Minseok warned him.

Jongin knew that. He knew of his own restrictions as well.

“But Minseok, it doesn’t add up!” he tried to reason. “Baekhyun, his brother, the cases, and the people who are after him. There is more to this than what meets the eye; puzzle pieces are still missing and some of the known ones are fake.”

He weaved through the streets until he spotted what he had been searching for: his old, beaten car. He sighed in relief before he heard Minseok address him again.

“Fine,” he sighed, “I don’t know what it is that you have uncovered about the cases, but I will help you out. I trust you and your freakish, animalistic instincts.”

Jongin was just about to thank his friend when Minseok interrupted him.

“But if I sense that something is off with Baekhyun and his alibies, I will arrest him myself, rest assured of that fact, Jongin. Do we have a deal or not?”

Jongin chuckled. Minseok’s serious mode had been activated.

“Yes, ma’am. We have a deal,” he mocked as he reached the car and unlocked it. He sat down in the driver’s seat and closed the door without igniting the engine.

“Good. But Jongin, how come they knew about our plans? How did they know where we were going to rendezvous with Baekhyun at the usual place?” his friend wondered.

Jongin frowned as he couldn’t be sure of it himself. It was all very strange. “I’m not sure. I’ve made sure we’ve only used safe lines whenever we’ve spoken on the phone, and we have only used very, well, _unconventional_ ways to communicate.”

“Tell me about it. I have pigeon feathers and feces everywhere. You dumb fuck, only you would think of using birds in this day and age,” Minseok said with a displeased tone in his voice.

“Sorry, but it was the only way I could think of,” he said truthfully and added: “And I thought you would appreciate some female company.”

“Ha, bloody, ha,” his friend scoffed. “Anyway, what’s our next course of action?”

“I’ve told him to hide somewhere safe, and I trust he knows how to form a proper judgment on what’s safe and not. We’ll rendezvous with him at the harbor instead. Or rather, you’ll rendezvous with him there; I can’t be seen with him,” Jongin explained as he finally ignited the engine. It coughed a few times before it finally came back to life.

“So, I’m still supposed to greet him _that_ way?” the cop questioned.

Jongin thought about it for a few seconds. It was a good idea to have a police officer do it, but Baekhyun himself would probably not be so pleased about it. “Yes, that part of the plan still stands,” he said despite him knowing Baekhyun would have his head afterwards.

“Good. I have been itching to try out this new move I’ve learnt.”

Jongin chuckled. “You’re so tiny, yet so brutal. What did your mother feed you when you were young?”

“Y’know, the usual. Milk from dragons, eyes from hawks, legs from mountain trolls, and Einstein’s brain,” his friend replied casually.

“You sick fuck of a son,” Jongin laughed heartedly into the phone. Minseok was never going to grow up. Never.

“Hey, Jongin,” Minseok began slowly, “What you’re doing… It’s nothing personal, right? This has nothing to do with what happened before in our past, does it?”

Jongin froze; he hadn’t expected that question. “No,” he said after a moment of silence, “this is not personal. I’ve moved on,” he reassured his friend.

He heard Minseok let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I’ve been worrying about it this entire time. Good to know it’s nothing personal then. Well, better get working, right?”

“Yeah, right,” Jongin said and hung up.

It was nothing personal.

He shook his head slightly.

He needed to stop his tendency to lie.


	10. Number Thirteen

The harbor lay only a short distance away, it was so near that Jongin would reach it in less than ten minutes if he drove at a slow velocity. He could not arrive too early, timing was essential. Him and Minseok had come up with two plans and given them uncreative names; A and B. They had been so certain that Plan A would work that they had not bothered devising more than two arrangements.

Plan A had included Baekhyun’s arrival at the house with the burgundy chimney. Prior to that, Jongin would have interrupted Baekhyun on his way home on the bus, Baekhyun would have complied with his instructions, and he would have proceeded to make his way to the house, without anyone knowing about their small encounter. The plan had been so ridiculously easy and plain, Jongin and Minseok hoped it would have caught the hunters who were after Baekhyun, off guard.

It was a house Jongin often visited with Minseok on their days off. They had been renting it for nearly five years from an old, rich lady who lived somewhere in Europe.

It was the perfect location for picking someone up; the house was surrounded by large trees with impressive canopies, and pointy junipers filled the empty spaces between them. The building itself was not as notable as the trees with their large canopies, instead, it was mellow and average looking, perhaps even below average – ideal for private meetings. Hidden from insight, if there were ever anyone who would pay the house lot any attention.

The rather old and beaten house held a large amount of memories; memories that were important to both himself and Minseok. They would have made another memory there if the plan had succeeded, but regrettably, it had not. Even though Jongin had taken the proper measurements to safeguard the operation. He frowned at the wedge in his former plan. Something he had not accounted for had happened right under his nose. Minseok would never betray his trust, Baekhyun had no idea what was going on, and he, himself, had been sober for the last few days. Or, well, considerably _more_  sober than he usually was or felt like.

Thinking back on the situation, Jongin wanted to dunk his head against a hard surface multiple times. They should have had at least five more strategies. If plan B did not go in lock, they would have no escape; this was their last shot. And it was Baekhyun’s last shot at life.

Meeting up with Baekhyun at the harbor when the sun had passed the horizon was their best opportunity. At dark, there would be little to no activity nearby one of the storage warehouses in the outer perimeter. No guards, no police men patrolling; it was likely that the only humans around were going to be a few fishermen out late to catch whatever prey that was active during the nightly hours.

Jongin glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. He had two hours to spare. He hoped Baekhyun had found a safe place to hide at; he held high hopes for the smaller man’s intellect, even though he could be skittish and easily swayed by his emotions at times. Or at least, that was what Jongin had come to notice about the young man’s behavior during the week he had spent observing him.

He still was not convinced that Baekhyun was an innocent man. Minseok was almost hell-bent on declaring the smaller man the culprit and murderer. Jongin was not as sure, he was still conflicted and torn into several directions. He could physically feel strings in his head pulling his brain apart. He could hear voices in his head, repeating whatever argument they could come up with, logical or not – it did not matter in the slightest.

He needed some time to think for himself. In a quiet and calm environment. With no people around. Just him and his humming car and a few warming sunrays, and he needed to let some steam out; he could feel his hands and legs tremble with restlessness.

Jongin smirked. He knew the perfect place. Fishing up his cell phone from his pocket, he hastily typed in a text message to Baekhyun, briefly telling him to stay in one place for another two hours before he made his way to the harbor. When he saw a small, green tick appear next to the sent message, he flung the phone into the backseat and hit the accelerator.

\------

He parked the car on a narrow cliff; barely big enough to support the weight and size of his vehicle. But he was sure it would not crumble and let him fall to his grim death. He could already imagine the newspapers if it were to do so.

_Crumbling Cliff Kills Controversial Private Investigator, Kim Jongin_

_Controversial Private Investigator Dies a Sad Death at the Mercy of Nature_

He huffed to himself and got out of the car. The wind ruffled his hair and the blue and orange colored view almost made him shed a few tears. It was stunning. And for once, the air was breathable – perhaps even more so. It was giving him life.

The ocean lay ahead of him, stretching far and beyond the curving horizon. Orange and yellow hues painted the sky which had earlier during the day been a vibrant pastel blue.  _A living and ever changing canvas, courtesy of scattered particles and chemicals in the atmosphere. And of course, light itself_ , Jongin mused to himself.

A sudden reminder popped up in his head and he stepped back and opened one of the passenger doors. Bending over, he searched for his phone which lay somewhere in the messy haven that was his backseat.

He found it underneath an old, deflated basketball he had been given it as a birthday gift three years ago. He had never gotten around to use it. Unfortunately.

Before he put the phone in his pocket, he quickly checked if he had gotten any notifications from anyone. Baekhyun had replied with a simple ‘OK’. Jongin ran a hand through his hair and walked to the front of the car. Despite the visible dust and dirt, he lay down on his back on the hood of the car and gazed up into the sky.

It was time to do some much needed thinking. Warmth spread across his body as the sun’s gentle afternoon rays hit every inch of his front, and he could slowly feel himself getting lost in the serene atmosphere. His eyelids shut close.

Something prickled him in the chest, but he made no move to remove the offending object. He wanted it there, as a small reminder. A remembrance of what had happened a few years ago.  

It had happened one chilly and rainy night in June two years ago; the second time Jongin had encountered the name B.B.

Back then, he had been drunk beyond belief. He had stumbled his way out of a bar where he had been attending a party to commemorate Luhan’s graduation. That night, he had probably downed two or three bottles too much, as he remembered how hard it had been to focus his sight on anything at all.

There had been no one around to help him either. His friends had all fainted back at the bar and he had not had the brain power to even think about calling a taxi to take him home, he figured later that the amount of alcohol he had consumed, had probably temporarily left him with a lower number of brain cells.

What was fortunate was that his car had been on maintenance; if it had not been, Jongin would have taken his rightful place behind the steering wheel and rushed off into the night, with little to no concern about traffic regulations and safety.

As a result, he had stumbled his way forward on the streets while being nauseous and sporting an earth splitting headache. It was when Jongin had chosen to take a detour through an alley, that he had seen  _it_.

The moment he had stepped a foot inside the dimly lit alley, the smell and dust particles had overwhelmed all five of his external senses. Although he had already been leaning against the wall, the sudden impact on his sensory system, had made him slumped his entire weight against the brick wall. The smell which had filled up the small area, had been just as foul as the one that had been oozing from the body he had been giving a chance to examine two months earlier; the one where they had found the scribbled joker card.

It was an  _it_  because there had been no other way to describe it. A corpse, a pile of ashes, a chunk of rotting flesh, a ball of melting fat; no. None of those had been the correct term to address it. It had borne no resemblance to anything except for a large pile of black, glistening deformed and irregular shapes.

But there had been one thing still recognizable, despite its charred and dirtied state; a head. Perched on top of the black pile, had a severed head been sitting, almost proudly. Both eyes and mouth had been closed – if the head had not been severed from the rest of the body, it would have looked as if the person had been in deep slumber. It was a male. He had short, black hair, and a mildly wrinkled face. Blood had been splattered all over the face. 

In stark contrast to the former body they had found, this head had been identifiable at first glance - even a drunkard like Jongin, had been able to recognize the individual. The principal of Seoul National University.

Jongin could vividly recall how he had had to turn away, and clasped a hand over his mouth to prevent himself for emptying his stomach of all its content.

He had barely been able to notify the police due to the stench and sight. But only after a few minutes, he had heard the familiar sound of screeching sirens, and seen the flickering blue and red lights.

By the time the area had been shut off from the public, Minseok had arrived at the crime scene, significantly more sober than he had been back at the bar. His friend had whispered soothing and calming words and rubbed his back, but none of it had been enough to stop the chills from running down the length of his body, nor had they been enough to prepare him for what had been coming.

A familiar tuff of silver hair had floated into his vision. Crouching beside the head, he had used his gloved hand to open the man’s mouth and remove something from within. Jongin could remember how he had torn himself from Minseok’s embrace to stalk towards his colleague, eager to take a look at the object.

That object had been the beginning of everything. It was the first falling domino.

Its shape had been etched into his retinas. The small and simple every day object had eventually come to rattle South Korea’s police force. And the very core of Jongin’s nightmare.

Placing an arm over his eyes, he inhaled as much fresh air his lounges could take in. He held it until he started to feel his consciousness starting to subside.

Slowly sitting up on the hood of his car, he blinked to adjust his eyes to the considerably darker evening sky, the orange hue had almost been replaced with a darker burgundy colour and a hint of dark blue was visible. The air was chillier and he felt goose bumps beginning to spread on his arms.

It was time.

He got up and stretched his body, every bone in his body cracking almost miserably at the motion. He sneaked one last glance at the shore below him with its billowing waves and fizzing waves.  

He reached for his phone and texted Baekhyun he was on his way to the harbor and would be there in one hour, and that he should get going.

Timing was of the essence.

 

♣

 

_Date: April 26th, 2016_   
_Location: Wolmi Island, Incheon, South Korea  
Time: 18:00:00_

_Objective: Wait_

 

Jongdae was not particularly warm, but he was not cold either. He was somewhere in between.

Maybe his indecisiveness had something to do with the location he had chosen to spend his evening at. An amusement park on a small island, Wolmi Island. He found that he was not bothered by the average and normal weather conditions, but rather, the people around him were annoying.

Large crowds with people who could not think for themselves well enough to realize when they were overstepping social boundaries, or rudely bumping into others without as much uttering a small apology.

People like that bugged the fuck out of Jongdae. And there was plenty of them on the crescent shaped landmass.  

Or maybe he was just making an excuse for himself; maybe the problem lay with Baekhyun and his brother, and Chanyeol. Just seeing Chanyeol at school today had made his blood boil.

He elbowed his way through the line to one of the larger attractions. People glared at him, but he felt no sympathy for people who simply stood in the way. They only had themselves to blame – especially when Jongdae was in a particularly foul mood. He did not know when his mood changes had emerged, but they were worse than usually.

A drink. He needed a drink.

Eyeing the square he was standing near, he managed to spot a restaurant on the other side. It had an outside bar, the line was short and they had a broad assortment of high quality liquors as far as he could see. The warm sun rays hit the glass, causing the light to be scattered in every direction possible. A gorgeous prism play was dancing in the midst of the square.

 _Oh, all those shiny bottles and glasses_. He almost sprinted there like a small child who had just seen the latest Barbie doll, or the newest Batman toy.

Seconds later, he scrutinized the small, hazel haired bartender as she poured him a Trinity Cocktail. Equal amounts of Sweet Vermouth, Dry Vermouth and gin came pouring out of the bottles. When it came to liquor, Jongdae was picky and strict; everything had to be perfect and the bartender had no room for any mistakes.

The poor girl had probably felt his locked eyes, and did a proper job pouring his drink into a nice, shiny, crystal clear glass, void of any dirt or finger prints. Her hands shook as she handed Jongdae his drink and shot him a forced smile, which he returned with a sunny beam, a cat grin spreading over his face.

Quickly turning his back to the bar to face the square, he took his first sip of the blend.

For one second, he could have sworn he had climaxed in his pants. The drink was  _that_  good. He let out a loud moan, earning himself some disgusted stares from people within hearing distance. A simple shrug and more moaning was all they got in return.

The watch on his wrist told him he had to be there for at least twenty more minutes. Twenty more minutes of drinking was all he could think about as the last drop of his Trinity Cocktail found its way down his throat.

He ordered another drink from the same girl. She looked just as nervous as she had been before.

“Hey,” he began, “how long have you been working here?”

Wide, brown eyes met his. He had surprised her so badly, she had almost dropped the bottle of Sweet Vermouth in her hand, only managing to catch in the very last second.

“Whoa, careful with the source of life, sweetie,” he advised and grasped her unsteady hand holding the bottle, helping her to stand up before he let go.

She blushed at the endearing term he had thrown her way.

“I-I have been working here for one week, sir,” she stuttered in a soft voice, and looked down at the bottle still in her hand. She was not even half way done with his drink, Jongdae dully noted.

“Not for very long, then? You make good drinks,” he said in a gentle tone, aiming to relieve some of her nervousness.

She flushed even harder. Jongdae was thoroughly amused.

“T-Thank you, sir. For your kind words, sir,”

He allowed for a moment of silence to see if her shoulders were going to relax. To his relief, they did, if only a little. He was making some progress with her.

“There’s no need to be nervous. What’s your name?”

She blinked.

“Um, it’s Sooji, Park Sooji, sir.”

Park, it was a common surname. He knew it was, yet, he could not stop himself from asking a stupid question. It was worth a shot, sometimes the world was small.

“Park, eh? Are you perhaps familiar with someone named Chanyeol?

She blinked again and looked as if she was searching through her memory for someone named Chanyeol.

“No, I’m not, sir.”

He chuckled. Of course, she was not – he had been too stupid and eager.

“Sooji. Pretty name,” he complimented, “But can you please finish mixing my drink?”

Sooji jerked back and flushed again. She nodded her head vehemently and focused on finishing his Trinity Cocktail.

Jongdae could barely resist the urge to let out a loud chuckle. He needed to stop putting people on edge only to satisfy his own boredom. His slightly sadistic side sometimes overwhelmed his other side.

As soon as she had finished his drink, he shot her a grateful grin and turned his back on her again. He bad barely taken his first sip when his phone beeped in his back pocket. He groaned, but picked it up anyway.

Reading the text he had gotten, his groaning only amplified. He had to leave the bar behind. Figuring he had no other choice, he downed the drink in one go, the alcohol burned its way down his throat, but it was a nice sensation. Maybe he was both a sadist and a masochist.

He placed the empty glass on a napkin, wrote a quick message addressed to Sooji and left a hefty tip, before he hurried to his designated location: the lighthouse.

Once again back in the mercy of the overcrowded streets, he put his sharp elbows to use for the tenth time that evening - he kept count.

After another five minutes of pain and nasty glares, he reached the lighthouse on the other side of the small island. He expected to see someone wait for him, but there was no one there. He frowned. The person had even exclaimed the urgency behind the meeting, and yet Jongdae was the first one to arrive within the given time. He was not happy; he could have spent a few more seconds on his drink.

He leaned tiredly against the white painted house, and waited, glancing at the orange sky and the lulling ocean.

A sound startled him. He threw a glance over his shoulder and sneered when he saw who had disturbed his moment of peace. Dressed in a pair of black chinos, a blue button up shirt, and a pair of red, low cut converse, was one of his childhood friends. As tall as ever and with a smug grin on his face. His brown, curly hair bobbed in the breeze.

“Hello, Jongdae,” he spoke in a voice layered with smugness, and nodded.

Jongdae groaned in response. “Hello, Thirteen.”

 

♣

 

_Date: April 26th, 2016_   
_Location: Somewhere in Seoul, capital of South Korea_   
_Time: 18:20:52_

_Objective: Breathe_

 

 **From** : Kai  
 **Received** : 18:20:52

Meet up at the harbor in one hour. Don’t be late, and for the love of your own life, stay discreet!

 

He huffed at the text. One hour to go. From his location, it would take him ten minutes maximum. He had some time to kill.

Baekhyun found himself sitting against a tree trunk. Surrounding him and his little temporary sanctuary, were tall shrubs. Behind him was a small playground. It was empty and the sad, grating sound of empty swings filled the small area. The sun was low in the evening sky, and it painted the view in a beautiful and fierce shade of orange. The air was surprisingly hot for a spring night as breezes blew his brown locks in every direction. It almost seemed as if the world was ablaze.

Hiding behind a large tree near a small playground had not been his initial intention. Although he had been running aimlessly, and desperately looking for a safe haven, he had not expected for that haven to reveal itself in the form of a rusty swing set, a dirty and worn plastic slide, a sandbox filled with more trash than actual sand, and a deafening silence not commonly associated with playgrounds.

It appeared to be a pathetic representation of what a playground was. Nothing of the expected cheeriness or brightness shrouded it. No wonder no children could be seen playing to their heart’s content. It looked pathetic.

Yet, Baekhyun had been drawn to it, almost as if it was alluring.

Baekhyun closed his eyes and tried to ignore his aching hand.

He had been lucky, luckier than most people would have been if they were put in his shoes. It had nothing to do with his physical abilities, it had all come down to pure  _luck_. Losing the car that had been trailing him in only a few minutes was mindboggling to say the least. Not that he complained. The amount of possible reasons for him being able to lose his pursuers were endless. He could only be grateful that he had slipped past their grabbing hands.

Speaking of hands, his own hand was not in an as bad state as he first thought it was. The cut he had gotten was shallow and wouldn’t hinder his movements, but it sure as hell stung a lot - he reckoned it would itch later on. What worried him, was the risk of infection. If he did not get the wound disinfected soon, the risk of dirt and bacteria entering was high. He cursed inwardly. But all he could do was to avoid making external contact with something that could be carrying bacteria. Which ruled out, basically, everything.  

The dried blood had conveniently stained his grey sweater, making him groan loudly and bang the back of his head against the hard tree bunk. What was he going to do now? How was he going to stay discreet when his shirt had a large splotch of blood right in the very center?

It took him a while to think of a solution that did not involve stealing, washing or stripping. Grasping the hem, he proceeded to take off the sweater. The warm air licked his exposed skin, causing shivers to run down his spine. It felt like heaven. A delirious and maddening sort of heaven. He shook the thought out of his mind and refocused on the shirt, turning it inside out, achieving a small success when the blood was less prominent than it had been before, only a faint shade of pink was visible through the thick fabric.

The blood on his hand would be harder to hide. He couldn’t turn his skin inside out no matter how much he would have liked to. For a second, he considered going to the nearest convenience store and buy a bottle of water and a cloth, but decided against it when he realized how counter-productive it would have been. Instead, he spit on the stained area and carefully wiped the blood away, trying his best to avoid contact with the cut.

He leaned against the tree. He could feel the trunk gently scratching his scalp as he moved his head slightly to fit better against it. The scratching sensation provided with some relaxation and his arms eventually fell limply against his sides.

In the tranquil environment, Baekhyun’s mind was conflicted, but he had come to realize that now was not the time of reckless actions. Even if incidental events took place. Like, for example, running into Chanyeol. Or Chanyeol running into him, Baekhyun corrected himself.

At the sight of his classmate, Baekhyun’s blood had run cold. Thankfully, Kai’s voice on the phone had calmed him down a significant amount, and only after they had ended their conversation, had Baekhyun launched himself at Chanyeol. His adrenaline had pumped and the threat he had spoken, had not been empty. If Chanyeol had something to do with Tao’s disappearance or if he knew something about the case without telling Baekhyun, the latter wouldn’t hesitate to carry out proper punishment. An eye for an eye.  

Sighing, he looked up at the sky. The vibrant orange colour had begun to slowly fade into a dark red hue.

“Even the sky is bloodied,” he murmured to himself, soon berating himself at his own words.

He looked at the phone. Forty minutes to go. His eyelids felt heavy so he let them shut. With the time left, he could afford a twenty-five minute power nap. He held the record for shortest power nap in his grade; fifteen minutes. It had been set by him during one of their publishing weeks as rookie journalists during their first year. No one had come close to his record.

He soon drifted off into a light slumber.

\------

Tao stood in front of him. Not a day older than when Baekhyun last saw him at Incheon airport, waiting with Jongdae to board the plane to Paris. He was smiling. It was the same gentle smile he had always had on his face. His dark brown eyes were glistening with unshed tears. Baekhyun wanted to hug him, tell him that his older brother was only going to be away for two weeks, and that everything was going to be fine. That he wasn’t going to leave him.

Baekhyun felt a lump in his throat. But he was not going to cry. He refused to be let his younger brother see him in a distressed state.

A lone tear made its way down Tao’s left cheek. There was no sniffling sound. The only indication of a sadness was the lone tear and his glistening eyes.

Large speakers called out the next flight to be boarded. Paris was up next. Baekhyun felt Jongdae’s hand grab his arm and slowly pull him away towards the gates. But he could not tear his eyes away from his younger brother. Jongdae’s strength easily overpowered his so his body followed in Jongdae’s direction, but all he wanted was for him to stop. He opened his mouth to tell his best friend to stop.

But nothing came out. He froze.

Baekhyun tried again. Silence. He was incapable of saying anything. He could feel his lips move, the air streaming down his throat to his lungs, and his tongue synchronizing with the rest of his mouth according to the syllable he wished to say.

Yet, not a single sound left his mouth. Not even a small wheeze.

His brother saw it too. Tao began to walk towards Baekhyun with worried eyes when two arms grabbed him. Baekhyun blinked in surprise; his parents had stopped Tao. They turned around and started to drag his brother out of the airport – away from him. Tao struggled to get free, but they would not budge.

Baekhyun was too stunned to do anything. His parents had never acted that way before. Never in his life had he seen them so void of emotion and without consideration for their children’s will.

Tao seemed to be screaming something. Baekhyun saw his face contort, but nothing came out of his mouth. Neither of them could say anything. He regained control over his limbs and struggled to wrench his arm out of Jongdae’s iron grip, but no matter how much he twisted and turned, Jongdae’s hand would not release his arm.

Hot tears fell down his face as he looked at Tao trying his best to get to him. Around them, people were buzzing and passing by without sparing them a single glance. They talked and went about their own business. It was as if the world could not see his and Tao’s predicament.

His brother stopped struggling and weakly went with his parent’s will. His younger brother straightened his back and walked backwards, head held high and eyes focused on Baekhyun. And then he began articulating.

A word, a sentence; Baekhyun did not know; he could not lip-read. Tao repeated the movement of his lips over and over again, but Baekhyun could not decipher it. He squinted to get a better look when he heard it. A loud bang.

Tao sailed to the floor, blood gushing from his head.

\------

Baekhyun awoke with a gasp. It had only been a dream. Just a nightmare. It had not happened. It had just been a twisted illusion. He covered his face with his hands, not caring about the wound he had sustained. He was a miserable ball of shivers and cold sweat.

He let out a strangled cry. His heart was too weak for things like that, some day he would get cardiac arrest from a nightmare.

It had only been a dream. He repeated the sentence softly like a mantra.

A crack behind him made him jerk backwards. He listened intently, waiting for someone to attack him from any possible direction. He looked over his shoulder. Nothing. To his left. Nothing. In the front. Nothing. To his right. Nothing.

He did not dare to breathe. He glanced upwards. Nothing. He let out a sigh of relief.

The dream had made him imagine scary sounds, he cursed at himself for being so easily affected by a stupid nightmare, making him all skittish and paranoid. He composed himself and looked at his watch. It was time for him to take his leave and make his way towards the harbor. He stood up on wobbly legs and brushed off dirt from his clothes, taking a few deep breaths before he stepped out of his small sanctuary.

It was time to put his stealth skills to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lo and behold, I'm not dead (yet)! 
> 
> I'm just here to announce a hiatus stretching all the way to Christmas, due to school (why oh why did I have to choose so many courses?). There's still one finished chapter I have left to publish here on ao3, but those of you who follow me on aff have probably already come across/read it. 
> 
> That being said, thank you for reading this slowly progressing story - I will try to shift up a gear or two :] ♥


	11. Blind

Nature is in more sense than one, merciless. The rules that are continuously reinforced, are impossible to violate as they are naturally present everywhere. There is no exception to the rules. Once a species is assigned to fit a certain mold; to play a certain role, it is no longer possible for it to interchange with any other. An eagle will never be able to swim, a bear will never be able to fly, and an elephant will never be able to write a book; it goes against the laws of nature, the evolutionary tree.

In genetics, natural barriers, for example the hybridization barrier, exist to act as protection against external damage on the genome from potential and forced mutation. In this case, a hybridization barrier prevents interbreeding between species, effectively isolating genomes from mixing with each other.

This principle is applicable to both the specified species itself in order to safeguard the continuous breeding and survival, and to the other animals living in the same territory. It is crucial to understand one of the most basic foundations in genetics: protecting yourself from the outside world, in turn means protecting the outside world from you.

Consistency, balance and absolute obedience is what makes the world spin, without them, chaos would ensue and it would be the end of the world as we know it.

♣

“So, what have you got for me, Thirteen?” Jongdae asked nonchalantly and shifted on the ground. Sitting on tiny stone pebbles was not comfortable, but Thirteen had insisted, claiming his feet ached.

Thirteen merely ignored him and continued tapping away on his phone, humming an old song Jongdae recognized. His friend had a nice, velvety tone to his voice, the journalist dully noted amidst his frustration.

If there was one thing Jongdae did not have enough patience for, it was people who ignored him; he loathed them. Listening to the waves rolling against the shore while enjoying the view, would have been nice if _someone_ had not been preoccupied with playing around on his stupid phone. He mulled over in his head if he should punch the chocolate haired man sitting next to him, but the moment he was about to call his name, the other had abruptly stood up and tossed his phone into the ocean.

Jongdae watched in slow motion as the expensive phone flew in a graceful and high arch towards the effervescent waves. He was mildly surprised. Thirteen had his fair share of weird habits and moments, but for someone like him to discard of his precious phone, was unheard of. Jongdae’s childhood friend was a sucker for all things technology.

The phone case glimmered in the late evening sunlight and for one instance, Jongdae caught a glimpse of the screen. A message was displayed. A message from someone named Eight.

He had not heard of the name before.

Time reverted back to normal speed, and soon the phone was emerged in water, slowly sinking towards the bottom. Jongdae said nothing as the screen flickered a few times before it went black. He could not see it ever shedding the same wide spectrum of colours as it had done before.

It was a comfortable silence that accompanied them as Thirteen had ceased his humming. Even though the taller one had yet to answer his question, Jongdae decided to let it slip; he knew better than to repeat questions more than once in Thirteen’s presence, he had suffered a few times from making that mistake. He glanced up at his friend. In the years they had known each other, Thirteen had been the one who had undergone the most drastic changes. Not only appearance-wise, but also personality-wise.

“Jongdae,” his friend finally addressed him.

Jongdae hummed in response and continued to look up at his friend. His friend, who had a feline grin on his face as he gazed at the darkening sea ahead. He looked like the Cheshire cat, only with chocolate brown locks and a pair of Ray-Bans hiding his eyes. A gust of air passed by. Jongdae shivered, but he did not know if it was because of the chill or Thirteen’s grin. He did not like that smile.

“How many bullets do I have in my magazine?” Thirteen asked, grin spreading even more across his face. Jongdae gulped.

How was he supposed to know how many bullets his friend had in his magazine? He frowned as his skin broke out in goose bumps. This was a bad sign.

Thirteen cocked his head backwards, exposing his long, slim neck to the elements. A golden brown eye shot Jongdae an ice cold look from beneath the rim of a pair of black sunglasses. Thirteen rarely looked at anyone with that look on his face. Jongdae had only seen it occur five times, but it had never been directed at him; it had always been someone else. Now he understood why they had looked so frightened; why they had almost coiled back and why their eyes had betrayed their fear for the tall man.

For the first time in his life, Jongdae was the one on the receiving end. At the sight of the ice cold eye, he found himself unable to take a breath. He just sat there on the stone pebbled ground, and looked at his friend with wary eyes.

His eyes were drawn to Thirteen’s lower back. There, he knew, a gun was well concealed beneath the crisp blue shirt and expensive chinos.

Perhaps the chocolate haired man could feel his reluctance to answer the question, for he opened his mouth and answered the question for a stunned and confused Jongdae in an icy voice.

“Enough to kill you,” his friend sang. His smirk was that of a psychopath’s, coupled with eyes brimming with blood thirst.

Jongdae was rendered speechless and he could not comprehend what Thirteen had just said. _Enough to kill you._ Sure, the tall man was known to have a sick sense of humor, but this was something entirely new. He clenched his fists so hard they started to whiten.

It had sounded like a challenge; a trial.

Around them, the world was still, it was if someone had stopped the time. The winds were calm, not a single breeze could be felt, and there was barely any sound. No fizzling waves, no birds chirping, no people buzzing about; nothing. Only the soft rushing of blood in his ears, was he able to distinguish in the deafening silence.

_Enough to kill you._

How long they stared at one another, Jongdae did not know; his perception of time had gradually ceased to function. After what felt like an eternity, Thirteen averted his eyes and barked out a loud laugh. His entire body trembled from the force. Jongdae merely blinked in shock. Thirteen wheezed and clutched his stomach, almost reeling over the edge of the small cliff.

“Oh, man, Jongdae;” Thirteen managed to squeeze out breathlessly, “You should have seen the look in your eyes.”

Realization hit Jongdae like an accelerating train. Thirteen had been joking. Relief flushed over him and he hung his head, still feeling the aftermath of the intensity Thirteen’s eyes had held within them. His hands shook as he unclenched them, no longer sensing any bloodthirsty aura emitting from his friend. He would not need to defend himself.

A large hand slapped his back hard. Looking up, he saw Thirteen bending over into his personal bubble. He quickly jerked back.

“No need to get yourself so worked up, Dae. I was just messin’ with ya!”

His friend had removed his sunglasses. Golden brown eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint, a complete opposite to the ice cold look they had had only a few seconds ago. His smile was wide, showcasing his pearly whites and pink gums. It was Thirteen alright; Jongdae’s childhood friend. It was Thirteen the way Jongdae remembered him.

The relief he had felt, was suddenly replaced with anger. He jumped up on his feet with every intent of teaching Thirteen a lesson. He was so _fucking_ pissed.

His body took the stance automatically. Thumb wrapped safely below his curled fingers, fist closed tightly without cutting off blood circulation, and knuckles aligned to the bones in the forearm. Fluid, yet still powerful. Alignment was everything in order for him to pack the punch with the most power. After all, Thirteen deserved nothing but the best after his well-played prank.

Feet shoulder-width apart with his lead foot in the front, pointing forty-five degrees away from his intended target. His back foot pointed directly away from his body, and knees bent slightly. He raised his fist to shoulder height. A bloody nose was not enough to satisfy his sadistic side - a bloody face would have to suffice.

He swung it effortlessly. His hips rolled into the rotation, simultaneously forcing his shoulder to support his punch, as well as engaging his core. It was easier than one, two, and three. And everything would be over in less than the blink of an eye. His body was used to it; it had to be after twenty years of practice.

But he felt no impact. His fist never hit anything but air.

It had happened so fast, it had not even looked like a blur. One second Thirteen was still leaning towards him as he stood up, poised and ready to slam a fist into the grinning face, and the very next second, he was gone. No, it was not even one second; it literally happened in the blink of an eye.

He stumbled forward as the kinetic energy behind his rotation overpowered both the gravitational pull downwards, as well as the little friction his feet provided. He avoided falling onto his face by just a hair by flailing his arms around and straightening his back and core. The moment he had regained his balance he swirled around, trying to find Thirteen.

His friend could impossibly have vanished into thin air like some wizard, nor was it possible for him to dodge Jongdae’s punch – especially considering the close vicinity he had been in. It shouldn’t have been possible; last time he checked, Jongdae had been the one with faster reflexes and movements.

The sky had darkened significantly and the world was at once alive again. The complete silence and void he had experienced when Thirteen asked him the question, had seemingly melted away. The ocean filled the world around him with both smells, flavors and sounds, and the merry atmosphere the amusement park radiated, seeped into his body. But Thirteen was nowhere to be seen.

A sudden tap on his shoulder almost succeeded in giving him cardiac arrest.

“What the hell was that punch? What are you, like seven years old? Even my cat would be fast enough to _at least_ put a scratch on my face,” someone mused behind him.

Jongdae turned on his heels and was met with a mop of familiar chocolate brown, wavy hair right up his face. Calming down his hammering heart, he quickly collected himself. _Fucking Thirteen._

“How the fuck did you dodge that punch?!” he gritted out between clenched teeth, barely managing to restrain himself from attempting to throw another punch.

Thirteen straightened his back and casually slid his hands into his pockets, smiling gently and looking oddly content with himself. 

“Come on, Dae. With how slowly you move it shouldn’t come as a surprise I was able to dodge that weak punch. It had the feeling of a small pat,” he replied smugly, “If you wanted to reward me with a pat on my head for making you cower in fear, you should have just said so; I would have happily obliged.”

If he had been given the time to retort to Thirteen’s unnecessary comments, he would have told him to replace the stick up his expensive ass with a new one, but before he had uttered a single syllable, Thirteen had turned around and started walking.

“You wanted me to find some information for you, yeah? He asked and threw a glance at Jongdae over his shoulder as he jumped over an invisible obstacle.

Jongdae nodded, but said nothing. He was bursting with questions on the inside, but he had to time them right or else he would never get answers. Playing with Thirteen was different than playing with fire; a fire he could put out or suffocate, but Thirteen was unstoppable once he started rampaging.

Silently following his friend, he went over his list of questions in his head. What had his friend found? Why had he thrown his phone away? Who was Eight? And what had he done during the months they had been separated? It was strange that Thirteen had dodged his punch, more so with such ease.

He mulled over the questions over and over, and tried to find plausible scenarios to each of them, but failed once he realized he had nothing to base his assumptions on. Glaring holes into the back of his friend’s head, he continued to walk silently, letting the surroundings provide them with music.

\------

“Y’know, you’re playing a dangerous game here, Dae.”

Jongdae looked at his friend quizzically, not really sure what he meant. “What do you mean?”

Thirteen slumped back against the car seat and leaned his head on the neck rest. He sighed deeply and bit his thumb nail, glancing out through the window while doing so. Jongdae scowled and nudged him hard in the ribs, patience running dangerously low.

“Hey, take it easy,” Thirteen protested and flicked him on the forehead.

“I’m tired of waiting for you to actually tell me something. You have been withholding information from me for well over two hours now. Don’t you think it’s time to do what you were set to do in the first place?” Jongdae scolded him while gently touching the place where the finger had hit him. It hurt so much, he wanted to pout. “And that hurt,” he muttered.

His tall friend didn’t reply and merely went back to bite his finger nails and watch the world pass by. It had gotten dark outside. The digital clock on the car’s instrumental board showed that it was well past eight o’clock in the evening. The roads were empty and there was barely any people walking around on the streets; the majority were assumedly already at home, enjoying a nice home cooked meal and watching whatever popular sitcom that aired during prime time slots.

Everything Jongdae could have been doing. But instead, he was stuck in a car, driving aimlessly with a bi-polar jerk next to him. A jerk who refused to answer any questions, resulting in a ticked off Jongdae.

“I don’t like Eight,” Thirteen said softly after a while, still glancing outside while resting his chin in his hand, which was propped up on the armrest.

“Ah, you caught that. You followed the trajectory of my eyes, didn’t you? Jongdae grimaced and turned right at a stoplight.

“Yeah.”

Jongdae sat silent. He didn’t know what to respond with – he didn’t know who this Eight person was after all – but he had to tread cautiously, he couldn’t straight up ask Thirteen who it was. After going through his options, he opted for the safest one.

“What happened?”

“He tried to stop me from acquiring information,” came the answer from Thirteen, who seemed a lot more cooperative.

Jongdae took a second to cast a glance at his friend. “About-“

“Yeah.”

He frowned. Was it that difficult and dangerous to research about _him_? Park Chanyeol? His train of thoughts was interrupted by Thirteen who had a demand.

“Drive to Namsan Tower. There is something I want to show you,” he said. Jongdae could see his friend’s tense shoulders from his peripheral vision. Without questioning the motive, he made a U-turn and accelerated. He was curious and anxious. Curious about what had been dug up about Park Chanyeol, and anxious about Eight.

A word Thirteen had said, had caused Jongdae to feel uneasy. His friend had said that Eight had _tried_ to stop him from getting his hands on Park’s information. What he had meant by ‘tried’ was something Jongdae wanted to know, yet didn’t want to experience. The simple sentence held so many different connotations, that he was scared to even make a sweeping assumption.

He felt anxious as he saw the lights on Namsan Tower blink in varying colours in the distance.

 

♣

 

“I have located him again. He’s heading towards the harbor.”

“Damn, he is fast. Why is he going there? Never mind, just get on his tail and do not lose him again. We can’t afford mishaps, okay? Not when such a golden opportunity has just appeared on our door step” the order came.

“Yes, sir,” he answered monotonously and waited until he heard a click in the receiver, indicating that the other man had hung up.

He glanced down at his phone again. A small green dot was quickly moving in the direction he had predicted. Calculating its arrival at the harbor by looking at the speed and distance, he figured it would reach its destination in less than five minutes.

Five minutes, it would barely be enough to warm him up. He slipped the phone into his pocket and stretched his body, sighing with relief when he could feel his spine crack and his muscles relax.

And then he ran. He could feel his muscles contract and relax with every movement. For the first time in a long time, he smiled. This mission was going to be the second he actually enjoyed.

He didn’t know why, but he had a feeling the world was never going to be the same again.

 

♣

 

He was freezing his ass off. Literally. No one had told him beforehand that it blew like a hurricane in the harbor. It was almost funny how the wind had picked up strength the moment he had squeezed his way through the tall fences surrounding the area.

The night sky had darkened the landscape, making it difficult for Baekhyun to distinguish anything but unclear silhouettes.

By the time he had reached the harbor, it had almost been impossible to locate the small hole in the fence Kai had told him to sneak in by that route. It was barely big enough for him to rat his way through. He had to kick off his shoes and leave his bag on the ground before climbing through. His sweater got caught in sharp thorns, consequently leaving it full of small tears. The palms of his hand sported a proud amount of scrapes, which he would remember to refer to as his war scars. But they hurt. And it hadn’t helped that Kai had given him the vaguest description possible.

_Walk along the fence on the north side, and you’ll come across a hole somewhere. Look for a red building and sneak in through the back door. Good luck._

Baekhyun would happily teach Kai an adjective or two once they reunited with each other. _So much for Plan B_ , he thought bitterly as he reached through the hole and grabbed his belongings. Quickly putting on his shoes and slinging the bag over his shoulder. He muttered a few curses as he searched for a red building in the immediate distance.

Which there was plenty of.

Baekhyun cursed again. He counted seven red buildings, or rather, seven buildings which could be red; it was difficult to see in such a dark area with barely any lights to illuminate the large harbor. Far off in the distance, he could hear a couple of men speaking to each other in hushed voices. He crouched in the spot and listened anxiously.

It was difficult to tune in on their conversation, but he caught the words ‘police’ and ‘car’ floating in between breaths. The wind ruffled his hair fiercely and his arm flew up automatically to protect him from flying debris and dirt. He couldn’t stay in the same spot for very long, not if he wanted to survive the night. He surveyed the area after more people. None were to be found save for the men to his far right. They seemed to be standing still as their voices didn’t get any more detectable. It was the ideal moment to move. Coast clear and the nearest potential witnesses were far from his hiding spot.

His head suddenly throbbed and he quickly pressed the heel of his palm against his right eye. The dream was still vivid in his head. The deep red hue of Tao’s blood gushing from his head, his brother’s dull and blank eyes, and the way his limp body fell to the floor. It had felt real, so real.

Momentarily caught in a moment of uncertainty, his mind wandered to his parents. He wanted to contact them so badly. He needed to know that they were safe, and he needed to assure them that he was safe. But contacting them would prove to be counter-productive, he figured. If he were to inform him about his whereabouts and his encounter with Kai, it would put them in even more danger.

Some information was better left untold. If the men had his house on surveillance they would likely be able to see his mother’s worried face, or his father pacing around the living room in circles.

“Fuck this shit,” he hissed almost inaudibly.

Baekhyun mustered enough sanity and strength to jump back onto his feet, wobbling slightly before he regained his balance and control. Now all he needed to do was locate the right building. How would he know which one to choose given Kai’s exemplary instructions? Should he call him?

Picking up the phone, he dialed Kai’s number and waited for the other man to pick up. After a long series of beeping sounds, he finally picked up.

“Hi,” he greeted cheerily.

“Which building?” Baekhyun asked at once, he had no time to be friendly.

“The red one, I told you,” Kai said exasperatedly.

Baekhyun felt the urge to punch something really hard. “I can count seven red buildings, Kai. Now which fucking one should I go to?”

“Oh, yeah right, I forgot there is several red buildings. Fuck,” he explained. Baekhyun didn’t know how to respond to such idiocy, so he remained silent while waiting for Kai to make some thought progress.

 “Baekhyun, can you see a large, yellow crane near the shore? It should be in a lit up area.”

Looking around, Baekhyun squinted to avoid getting dust in his eyes while searching for said crane. He spotted it on the other side of the harbor, next to a large, red barn-looking house. He assumed it served as a storage hall for boats and water scooters during winter seasons.

“Yeah, I see it. I can also see a red storage house. I suppose that is where you want me to go.”

“Yes,” came the short answer immediately from Kai. “Be careful.”

Baekhyun hummed in reply, hung up and straightened his back. Before he tried to stealth his way to the house, he sharpened his hearing and listened after voices in the distance and in his vicinity. The men from before had yet to leave their spots, still standing and speaking in hushed voices to each other. Baekhyun wasn’t able to distinguish any crunching sounds indicating someone walking about on the grounds ahead or around him, and carefully began to stalk towards his goal. Almost tip-toeing, he chose to round the perimeters instead of cutting across the harbor. It would enable him to slip by unnoticed and with his life intact.

The weather did not aid his pursuit at all. The wind howled even louder than before and the waves crashed against the wharfs and port, water splashing everywhere. Caught in the moment, Baekhyun mused over how unpredictable the weather could be. It could be sunny and warm an entire day, only for hurricane-bearing winds to materialize in the late evening.

Behind him, a loud crunch alerted him. He quickly whipped his head backwards and pressed his body against the trashcan, so much it almost seemed as if he was going to merge with it. Wary, wide eyes searched for any sign of movement, ready to either dash for his life or immobilize whichever unlucky bastard who showed his face.

Leaves flew about, small branches got ripped off the trees because of the strong winds, and water splashed him in the face even though he was a good distance away from it. He watched as Mother Nature wreaked havoc, but no other human being could be seen. He stayed watchful for a few moments before he realized that he crunching sound must’ve come from when one of the larger branches had fallen down and rolled around.

A loud crack snapped him back to reality. He briefly glanced up and saw the dark clouds hovering, waiting to unleash their fury. Another thundering boom opened up an opportunity for him. He sprinted with all his might towards the storage house, all while maintaining a low profile and avoiding lit areas. Hiding behind a large trashcan, he peeked from behind it to calculate how far away he was.

One more sprint. All he needed to do was to await another boom.

Just one more.

It came, and boy, was it loud. It was louder than the heavy metal concert he had attended with Tao when his younger brother had gone through a slightly awkward scene-era when he was a teenager. The ground shook and Baekhyun could feel his entire body tremble. He covered his ears and dashed.

The yellow crane, the red building, Kai, answers, the red-eyed man, Chanyeol, and Tao; he needed to solve this.

He was so focused on reaching his goal that his reaction was delayed. He had barely begun to close the distance to the building when something hit the back of his head hard. Slow-motion; he saw everything in slow motion. He could see the crane, the house, the clouds, the harbor, and then, the ground; the cobbled and graveled ground, slowly getting closer and closer. Baekhyun could feel himself freefalling with nothing to soften the impact. His senses were dull and he felt no pain when his body hit the stones.

Baekhyun could hear a voice in his head. He knew he was imagining it, but just like his recent dream about Tao, it felt so real.  Deep, rich and velvety. Familiar. It whispered his name and apologized continuously. How many times he heard the soothing voice whisper, he didn’t know, for his mind had begun to drift off into a state of unconsciousness after merely a few seconds.

 _This was it_ , was his very last thought. He would never get the answers he had been looking for. This was his last slumber.

He succumbed to the growing darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Scratches temple anxiously*
> 
> It's been a while, hasn't it? I promise I have a valid excuse for neglecting this story for so long. Anyways, here's the latest (well, not really it's just that it hasn't been posted here on ao3) chapter. The next chapter should be out some time this month, hopefully. 
> 
> A belated happy new years to each and everyone of you! And be sure to do your best to fulfill your new years' resolutions! Thank you for reading this story ♥


	12. Shrouded

Yellow, red, blue, green, and white. All the colours of the rainbow, flickering and blurry in the edges. They were small, round and blurry lights, very similar to those of mini-bulb strands. They both surrounded him and glimmered from a distance away, constantly in motion in the otherwise pitch-black environment. The lights reminded him of the fireflies he and his family had seen in northern Germany a few years back. Baekhyun felt sluggish and barely even half-awake.

The ground beneath him was cool against the tips of his fingers. They were the fingers attached to a body he was unable to move, and he wondered in a moment of confusion, if he could have been experiencing a sleep paralysis for the first time. Only, he had been expecting a much more frightening and numbing experience based on the theories he had read - not a feeling of serenity and inner calm.

Lying still on the cold ground, he blinked rapidly for a second to hopefully awaken his consciousness even further, but he eventually realized his efforts were futile; his eyelids were as heavy as lead. It usually would not befit him to spend an eternity blinking dazedly at blurry lights while letting his body rot and time run its course, but this time it was vastly different. He was different.

The peacefulness lulled him into an almost hypnotic state of mind. He could almost hear non-existent birds chirp happily in the surroundings, as well as a swirling body of water. What he had done and where he had been before getting there, he didn’t know nor did it seem to matter much. His eyelids grew increasingly heavier, he had to struggle to keep them open, attempting to do so by intensely focusing and following a single light with his eyes. But just like before, he found that he had very little strength and willingness to resist his physiological urges. Eventually, Baekhyun closed his eyes and drifted off into the most satisfying sleep he had experienced in a long time.

\------

The next time he opened his eyes, it was still difficult for Baekhyun to tell if he was merely dreaming or if he was indeed awake. What he saw before him almost defied logic and rationality, unless the entire world was composed by a giant mirror. But not even then would he have shrugged it off as completely plausible and normal.

He was standing in the middle of what he assumed to be a white field, stretching beyond the horizon. The ground was covered by gleaming, small dust particles that were almost as blinding as diamonds. The dryness of the ground allowed cracks to run like veins throughout the vast space without any obstacles to stop them. The sky was clear and the sun was at its highest point, casting a miniscule and pathetic shadow right beneath him. 

A gentle breeze made Baekhyun’s hair flutter. As did the other’s hair; the young boy present besides himself. Who just so happened to look eerily familiar, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly whom it was he looked alike. The boy wore clothes he had often worn when he had been a young teenager; a simple red t-shirt with his favourite Pokémon character printed on it, Charizard, and his favourite pair of baggy jeans. Even the same brand of sneakers, only they were torn in the same places and with splotches of dried mud. The boy was small and thin, light brown hair framing his oval face. He looked so familiar to Baekhyun it sent shivers down his spine.

His mouth had gone dry all of a sudden and his hands were starting to get really clammy. He didn’t know what to do nor what to say. His mother had always told him to be polite and greet everyone he was lucky or unlucky to meet with at least a smile and a nod of acknowledgement, but all of that seemed to have flown out of his mind whilst he watched the other boy in front of him. Instead, it was the other who first uttered something.

“Who are you?” came the question accompanied with a small frown and a look of confusion. He looked cautious and careful as if he had chosen to tread lightly. Baekhyun deemed it wise of him; he would have done the same.

“I’m a student,” Baekhyun answered back slowly. He wasn’t technically lying, but there were some things better not being disclosed. “Who are you?” he asked in return.

“What is your name?” the boy asked, disregarding Ben’s question completely.

“I believe I asked you a question,” he bit back, annoyed that his question was left unanswered. It was a big pet-peeve of his, having people dodging his questions.

“I am under no obligation to answer any of your questions, seeing as you have so inconveniently intruded upon my land without any prior notice like a true peasant,” the boy snapped back with his head held high and eyes locked with Baekhyun’s. “What is your name?”

Baekhyun tried his best to restrain his urge to make his way to the young boy and strangle him for the audacity to mock and taunt him. He took a few deep breaths and unclenched the fists he hadn’t noticed he’d balled up.

“You sure speak as if you have a stick up your ass, kid. Thinking so high and mighty of yourself while being clad in an old t-shirt with some lame cartoon character printed on it. I bet you’re no more than six years old, brat,” he snapped, crossing his arms and straightening his back. Lecturing and putting arrogant youngsters in their place was something he enjoyed to do in his spare time.

“It is not a lame cartoon character, you simpleton! I will have you know that he is the mighty lord of the skies, breathing fire and fear into his rivals as he soars high above them,” the boy yelled back, looking every bit as furious as he probably was. Baekhyun had to agree with the boy; Charizard was the opposite of lame, but that was not something he would admit openly in front of a snotty kid who reminded him so strongly of himself.

Not bothering to amuse the boy with a reply, Baekhyun merely sat down on the dry ground, crossed his legs and supported himself on his elbows, not for a single moment taking his eyes of the boy.

“My name is Byun Baekhyun and I’m a student. What is your name?”

“Are you sure?” the boy asked with narrowed eyes.

“Am I sure of what?”

“That your name is Byun Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun blinked. Of course he was sure what his own name was. He wondered briefly if the boy had taken some illegal substances or if he was unusually philosophical for his age. Raising himself up on his hands, he questioned the boy’s motifs.

“What kind of answer are you looking for? A factual one or a philosophical one? Because if you want to go down the philosophical alley, I can’t be-“

“I want to know whether or not your name is Byun Baekhyun, is it that hard for you to comprehend?” the boy interrupted him.

“Of course, I’m sure my name is Byun Baekhyun. What are you getting at, boy?” he answered flabbergasted.

The boy opened his mouth as if to say something, but quickly shut it again. His eyes darted around searching for something. Mimicking his actions, Baekhyun took the chance to also glance around. He saw crackled the ground and cloudless, blue sky still stretching far beyond the horizon. Not much had changed since he first had laid eyes on it.

“My name is also Byun Baekhyun,” came a soft voice.

Baekhyun turned his head slowly. “Well, that’s a nice coincidence, my fellow Byun Baekhyun,” he commented truthfully. The boy nodded slowly.

Thoughts raced in his head. The likeliness between the two of them was too big for it to be a mere coincidence. He sat up straight and motioned for the boy to sit down.

“Okay then, Baekhyun. Where are we and how did I get here?” he asked once the boy had sat down.

“I do not know where we are, I do not think I have never set a foot in this place before. I mean, I have been to similar places, but none of them had landscapes like this stretching this far beyond the horizon,” the boy shrugged. “And to answer your second question, I have no idea how you got here. I just know you were standing there when I opened my eyes. Poof!”

“Poof?” Baekhyun questioned and cocked an eyebrow. “And how did you get here?”

“I am not sure,” he answered quietly and his frown got deeper. Ben scrutinized the boy, looking for signs that he was lying or concealing a part of the truth from him. He was satisfied when he found none.

“But,” the boy began, “I have this weird feeling, like something is stirring in my stomach. And I have been feeling on edge ever since I got here. Ever since you got here,” he admitted.

Baekhyun, who didn’t quite understand, kept silent and waited for the boy to elaborate further. The boy’s eyes flickered back and forth between looking at Baekhyun and down on his hands which he kept stiffly in his lap. Another breeze ruffled their hair, and Baekhyun suddenly found something amiss. He shifted into a crouching position and looked at the sun, making a makeshift solar visor. The giant ball of gas was still there, radiating as always.

“We’re dreaming,” he murmured.

“Did you say something?” the boy asked.

Baekhyun faced him with a blank look in his eyes. “I’m dreaming. This is just a dream.”

Stares and silence were exchanged as neither of them chose to utter a word. While the boy looked incredulous with his mouth hanging slightly agape and raised brows, Baekhyun swallowed anxiously.

“And you are me,” he said with a shaky voice. “I am you and you are me,” came his final statement. He directed a hard glare at the boy who still looked as if he had difficulties deciphering what Baekhyun had just said.

“I can see where you are coming from,” he began slowly, shifting closer to Ben. “I have had my suspicions. You look like me, you speak like me, you think like me and you have the same name as me. You have also noticed the same things as me.”

Baekhyun nodded in affirmation. “There is no heat,” he stated.

“There is no heat,” the boy repeated.

It had not crossed his mind at all since he got here. The sun was at its highest point in the sky, they were in the middle of what seemed to be a never ending desert and the cracked, dry ground beneath their feet, all acted as indications that there was supposed to be some kind of heat filling the place. But there was none.

Suddenly, the wind seemed to pick up its strength. Dust swirled around in gentle circles and occasionally disrupted their views. At first, Baekhyun hadn’t thought much about the sudden environmental change, but it soon became obvious the development wouldn’t cease.

Baekhyun covered his eyes and moved closer to the boy, hell-bent to ask some more questions before he woke up from this strange dream. The boy seemed to be aware of his intent and also moved towards an unspoken middle ground.

As the wind continued to grow, it became increasingly harder for them to hear anything but shrill howling. The sky darkened rapidly and dark clouds were drifting in from a close distance. It was unnatural, all of it. And it was not a good sign.

“There has to be some kind of purpose for us to meet this way! It is a dream, isn't it? And dreams always hold some kind of meaning,” Baekhyun howled through the winds when he was only a few feet away from the younger boy, who seemed to be struggling to not be swept away on his feet.

“And what would that be? Have you got any suggestions?”

“I figured you would have some, seeing as you enjoy playing an exceptionally witty and sharp kid!”

They could hear the thunder brewing in the ominous clouds, waiting to discharge the built up electricity upon the poor, unsuspecting drylands. As the first lightning struck the ground, a light bulb lit up within Baekhyun. He grabbed a hold of the boy and brought him close enough to shout into his ear.

“Tao! When did you see Tao last?”

“Tao?” the boy asked, confused. “Who is Tao?”

Baekhyun tightened his grip on the boy, he was sure this dream would somehow lead him to his brother. He did not have the time nor the patience for someone to be playing clueless in his presence, especially not when it came to Tao. He glared at the younger boy.

“What the hell do you mean with ‘Who is Tao’? Don’t play with me,” he snapped.

The boy tried to wriggle his way out of the grip on his arm, but Baekhyun’s strength overwhelmed his.

“I do not know anyone named Tao, fuck! Let go of me!” he screamed and tried to pull away anew.

“I’m talking about my brother! About our brother! Tao! Don’t fuck around anymore, I know this dream is a puzzle piece and a way for me to find our brother, who’s gone missing in my time,” he yelled so loudly his voice almost broke. The thunder had broken through completely by then, louds cracks filling the formerly quiet and vacant space.

“I do not have a brother, so I honestly have no idea what you are talking about!”

Baekhyun was stunned, and in a moment of hesitation, his grip on the boy loosened, whom immediately seized the opportunity to pull away. He looked hurt as he stood a good distance away from Baekhyun, clutching to his arm where Baekhyun had dug his fingers in. The older of them now stood and stared at the other in disbelief and confusion. He had half the mind to yet again strangle the boy for spouting utter nonsense.

But he never made it that far, he wasn’t even given an opportunity to utter a single syllable. It was too late as the lightning struck the highest point in the desert.

And once again, Baekhyun was shrouded in darkness.

♦

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> This is more of an interlude than a chapter, to be honest... 
> 
> Anyways, the next chapter should be up fairly soon - if life allows it ._.


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